War Heroes
by 8ron
Summary: An AU Mass Effect fanfic in which Shepard and Garrus are part of The First Contact War. Humans and turians have met, and not on good terms. During a routine scouting mission Shepard finds her ship invaded by the alien species. In a matter of minutes her crew are dead or dying, the Normandy is on fire, and she is being captured by an alien with strange, blue face tattoos.
1. Chapter 1

The alien flared his mandibles and charged towards her with an angry roar. No time to duck. No time to roll. No time to even blink. Shepard could only watch wide eyed as unstoppable pain sped nearer with a hungry glint in it's eyes, complete with sharp talons and heavy armor. She thought about saying something, but what do you say at a time like that? Stop please? Do you beg them?

Absolutely not.

She braced her arms over her face during the breathless moment before contact was made, not dropping her gun – Commander Shepard never dropped her gun – and wincing as the creature dipped his spiked head and crashed into her chest. With an 'oof' her feet left the ground altogether and he bull rushed her to the back wall in what was truly a superb tackle. Head crunched against the ship, ears started ringing so hard it felt like her whole skull was vibrating, and the not so distant cries of death around her suddenly seemed so very far away. A mad thought of an alien football team crossed her mind, eleven horned monsters charging across a grassy field with a ball made of pig skin tucked under one arm. Perhaps it was the fact that it sounded so comical, or that it was such an inappropriate time to even be imagining such things – probably because she no doubt had a serious concussion - but a bubble of laughter left her lips even as the alien was pushing her to the ground and snarling inches from her nose in a language she did not understand.

Her unexpected mirth at least confused him for a few moments, mandible twitching as he stared down at the little human. In truth the entire situation was unbelievable. Mere minutes ago Shepard had been doing her rounds, joking with Ash in the CIC over the perkiness of a certain soldiers behind. Kaiden had wandered by and wanted to know what was so funny, and they'd refused to tell as he needled them for information. She had been avoiding one of his puppy dog faces when the power went dead; panic settled among the crew quickly, and flourished after Joker announced over the comms that they were under attack. After that things got blurry, and the commander mask was on. She'd ordered Kaiden to go turn the power back on – and he must have somehow succeeded as the lights were now casting shadows over strange, plated faces, though Kaiden had not returned - had rushed with Ashley and a few others to grab their weapons, charging down the stairs as Joker's shrill voice continued to sound above them. "Breach in the cargo hold. Prepare to be boarded. I repeat, prepare to be boarded."

Hackett had sent them on a simple routine mission. It was meant to be simple.

Adrenaline brought her out of her rabbit hole and gave her the energy to once again fight back. She realised that his two fingered hands were attempting to pull her assault rifle from her, and Shepard gripped onto it for dear life as they began to wrestle across the metal ground of the Normandy. Others fought around them, but she was lost in the moment as death stared at her right in the face and elbowed her in the ribs. When that did not work he head butted her with his rock like forehead, and her knee instinctively rose to crash between his legs in answer; but she did not find what she'd been looking for and barley caused the alien to flinch. A woman then? She sure as hell couldn't tell, and didn't find the time to ask. Instead, they rolled across the cargo bay until a dead body blocked their path – one of hers, Private Jenkins, he'd been itching for some action. Anger seethed through her bones, an anger she rarely brought to the surface, and she crashed the butt of her gun against his plated cheek. The aliens snarled furiously as his face was knocked to one side, spittle flying from his mouth and allowing her a perfect view of sharp little teeth, set in a neat row and looking ready to dig in to soft flesh.

"Get… ugh…off me!" She said through her own gritted, and unfairly blunt, teeth; smashing her gun like a hammer into his mouth several more time. Fangs shattered, one mandible crunched, and he leaned back far enough in protest that she was able to clamber free; scrambling backwards on her ass and lashing out with one last kick to the face before leaving him and re-joining the fray.

Now up on her feet and back into reality, one thing was obvious: they were losing.

Pools of red blood splashed the floor and mixed amongst blue to make a murky magenta. But the humans lying cold dead outnumbered that of the enemy. Humans. Her crew. Her friends. Guilt dragged her down (or maybe that was the now dying alien clutching to her leg?) and Shepard pulled herself into action before all was lost.

These people were under her protection, and if she didn't lead now then all their lives would be on her head instead of the majority.

"Retreat!" She said in an angry shout, leaping over Jenkins's body and shooting towards a snarling alien with blue face tattoos. "Get to the escape pods! Fall back! I said fall back!"

She herself stepped forward, covering her party as they bolted up the emergency ladder or crammed into the lift. Say one thing for Shepard, say that she's a good shot. Firing quick rounds of five with her assault rifle, she aimed for headshots every time, fully prepared to go down fighting if it meant a few survived – survived and sent a warning back to Earth.

Humans were not alone. And they were not safe.

More of the aliens diverted their attention to the lone solider with red hair and a temper to match, so much so that she had to duck behind the mako's wheels and grit her teeth as her baby was shot into scrap. Damn, she'd miss driving that thing.

Now free of gunfire, a few of the armoured monsters rushed after her crew, climbing the ladder seem as the lift was now gone. She shot out again, catching them in the back with a sickening cry of vengeance as two fell from the ladder and landed heavily by her feet. Blue blood splattered her face, and Shepard felt a brief wave of success before two long fingers wrapped around her neck and flung her backwards.

"Ugh!" They'd come round the other end of the mako while she wasn't looking, and she was pinned up to the wall yet again, only this time there would be no lucky escapes. The hand squeezed without mercy and any remaining air was pushed out of her neck. She coughed and spluttered and choked towards an angry face marked with blue markings, bullet wounds oozing from one cheek.

He clicked at her in a foreign language, biting off angry words that seemed to flow into a low growl at times. She tried to shoot him in the chest, but her gun was out of heat sinks, and he flung it away with a snap of his wrist when she kept attempting the impossible. That option now gone, she went for a more basic technique, and spat the blood from her mouth into his eyes, merely fuelling his anger and tightening his grip on her.

_May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead._

Vision was starting to turn fuzzy as the alien strangled her to death. Her red hair – usually bound into a ponytail so tight it gave her a headache – now fell in messy trickles over her face, leaving a bare patch over one eye that stared up at him furiously.

Squeeze, wheeze, squeeze. Wheeze, wheeze.

Heat washed over her face and she was briefly aware of black smoke licking the ceiling by one end of the cargo bay. Engines probably burned out, she thought. No doubt Joker was refusing to leave the helm, desperate to detach the Normandy from the alien ship so he could somehow save them all.

But that wasn't how her story would end. She was going to die before the war had even begun. She was going to die without any heroics, without a commendable service record. An orphan who made it off the streets and into the army, only to be one of the first causalities from a new alien race. Though she supposed that in itself was something, even if she didn't feel very proud all the same.

She noticed with a slight twitch of her lip the first sign of panic among the aliens, they ran from the fire that was quickly spreading and back towards their own ship. Except Blue here, he was still squeezing, still staring at her with a fiery rage of his own. Maybe that had been his brother she'd killed? Or maybe she was the reason his face was shot to hell? She didn't know.

She didn't care.

And then her world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus and his squad mates had been given one order before they boarded the ship:

Leave one alive.

He was trying to remember that objective as he currently choked the red headed one to death, relishing in the drool that dribbled from its pink mouth. He couldn't get over how soft they were. So easy to strangle. No armoured skin protected its throat, no plated shell made it harder for him to end the little thing's life. He simply had to hold its air ways shut and wait patiently.

These were the first new aliens he'd encountered. Though not the first contact the turians had made with them. There had been rumours of a new species opening any Mass Effect relays they could find without thinking of the consequences, or gaining permission from the Council. Then little over a week ago, Lieutenant Abrudas and his men had discovered the culprits – parked outside Relay 314 and attempting to open it. Garrus did not know all the details. He wasn't sure who had opened fire first, only that the aliens had fought, and were to be considered dangerous; if not very intelligent.

Thanks to all the stories, he had been expecting something more like the Krogan: big, tough, and hell bent on destruction. But these creatures resembled a fringeless Asari more than anything else. Though, saying that, one of them did fight like a krogan.

Say one thing for Garrus, say he was perceptive. This creature had caught his eye from the beginning; shooting his friends with an impressive accuracy and shouting out in their strange language. It ordered the others without hesitation, and they followed with equal confidence. But the fact that it clearly had a bit of authority was not what captured his full attention. It was when it begun to hit Tonn again and again with the butt of its gun, smashing his mandibles to a pulp even when the turian was clearly done fighting.

That had pricked his rage, and he had leapt to intercept the red headed alien as it unleashed havoc on the men; allowing her crew to flee while it continued the fight on its own. It had even landed a few well aimed shots at his cheek plate, which was now burning in pain. Though he paid it no mind. He was hell bent on revenge.

It snorted and wheezed against his palms. Garrus noted how much the aliens seemed to leak. Literally from every hole on its face. Liquid was pooled in its' eyes, dribbled down its mouth and bubbled out of its little nose all at once. Eventually it went limp against the wall and closed its eyes, yet he continued to squeeze.

"Garrus, put it down." Ira insisted, the two of them didn't get along at the best of times, but she seemed honestly concerned. Crouching over Vestre, one hand held his bleeding mandible to his face as she looked on with a frown.

Garrus ignored her and continued. He wasn't finished, and one of his father's favourite mottos echoed in his mind.

_Do things right or don't do them at all._

"Garrus." Ira said again, pleading.

"No! Did you see what it did? Did you see what it did to Vestre?"

"And we can save him. But only if you help me."

He let the alien fall in a graceless heap. She was right; and spirits willing, it was already dead. He didn't know.

He didn't care.

It was a side of Garrus few people saw. He was usually polite, calm, and calculating. Maybe not the perfectly obedient turian his cultural norms demanded, but somewhere close. It was only in a fight when he turned ruthless, and only when his temper was tested that he lost all control.

He turned to Ira, who had started to drag Vestre towards the docking tunnel by his arms. The alien's ship was a lost cause, and he could hear the rage of the engine fire. Clearly this new species were not very advanced. He doubted the ones who had fled would survive.

Good. He had suddenly developed a very grim opinion of these strange, squishy aliens.

Garrus reached out to help Ira with her heavy load, but she simply clicked her mandibles impatiently and nodded towards the alien.

"I meant take it to the ship, I've got him."

"Are you insane?! It's a monster."

"You remember our orders. The commander wants one alive."

Of course, a good turian followed their orders to the letter, but he didn't feel like being a good turian, and he glanced back to the thing with a low growl. It was still on the floor, folded over on one side and seemingly lifeless. But Garrus could see the gentle rise and fall of its chest, and his visor flashed a heart rate with a blink of his eye. It was breathing. It was alive.

Crap.

Maybe he was a good turian after all. Or maybe he just wanted to stay on Ira's good side for the next time they had a tie breaker. But Garrus stepped forward and flung the alien over one shoulder despite his qualms, before following her back to their own ship.

It was a lot lighter than he'd expected, and appeared to be soft all over. Its head banged against his lower back, dangling hands precariously close to his waist. Even unconscious it still managed to be annoying, and he jostled it roughly into a higher position.

They were the last group to return, and the air lock had barely closed before the engines purred to life and they were leaving the human vessel to float dead in space.

He was not sure what to do with it. The cruiser was big, even for a turian ship, yet he felt like he had few options when it came to prison cells.

Ira dragged Vestre towards the medbay – a few others stepping forward to help once her struggle was noticed – and no doubt the alien needed medical attention too, he was just unwilling to provide it.

Maybe he could dump it in the garbage disposal and let it get sucked out into space.

"Vakarian," He was saved from making the decision himself with the arrival of Commander Fidus, who looked at his cargo with a gloomy frown. Garrus couldn't tell if he was pleased with him or angry. It was always impossible to tell until the turian was either giving you a pat on the back or sending you down to clean the toilets. "Comm room. Now."

"Yes, sir." He followed suit, passing through the already busy CIC. Most of the crew seemed unscathed and were back to their stations, working with a strict efficiency that the turian fleet was famous for. Few even noticed the creature on his shoulder, though one or two flashed heated glares in its direction. Garrus did not doubt that the medbay was seeing its fair share of patients despite the calm atmosphere up near the galaxy map. He needed patching up himself, face oozing blood thanks to the violent alien and its surprisingly good aim.

Apart from that he felt fine, though talking was proving painful. Which was why Garrus wasn't pleased to find himself in a meeting.

"Put it on the table." Fidus said as the doors swooshed open to a well sized room, its only furniture being the large silver table gracing the middle of the floor.

"Ah. Garrus is it? Good work." He had failed to notice the turian lurking in the far corner, stomach dropping as he locked eye contact with the spectre. He had been avoiding Saren since he joined them a week ago – as had the rest of the crew. It was a natural reaction. Even if he was a turian, spectres were bad news, and there was something particular about this one that rubbed Garrus the wrong way.

"I – er, thank you, sir."

Saren dipped his chin in a curt nod, apparently done with small talk. Grey eyes, cold and scathing, trailed over the alien now stretched out on the table. Garrus followed his lead, and noted how the skin was turning a blotchy purple around its neck. He guessed it was a defence mechanism of sorts, but as far as those go it seemed pretty useless. The rest of the skin had turned as white as bleached bone, and glistened under a layer of sweat.

"Whats wrong with its' fringe?" Commander Fidus said. He reached out to curl some of the red strings around his talon with a delicacy that bellied his great size.

"We don't know… yet. The first one we captured died prematurely." Saren shrugged, "they possess no protection to Palaven's solar radiation, we're sure of that. I'm please we now have a spare."

"Spare?" Garrus asked before he remembered he was too low in the ranking to be asking questions.

"Indeed," said Commander Fidus. "Saren dragged another through shortly after we made contact. However, we doubt it will survive the night." He was still trailing the flimsy fringe through his fingers, glaring down intensely and unable to just let go and step back. It weirdly annoyed Garrus, and he was surprised to be wishing his commanding officer would just leave the damn thing alone. "Saren had to use… extreme measures to bring the other aboard." Fidus flared his mandibles over the fact.

"Yes, despite their appearance it seems the new species are quite capable of defending themselves. What about this one, Garrus, did it put up a fight?" If he was honest, Saren made him a little nervous, and he had to force himself to maintain eye contact with the smug turian.

"Yes. A little, sir."

"Violent little creatures, aren't they?" Fidus mused, finally placing his hands behind his back and straightening to his full height. "Yes, we'll probably need the spare. But I don't want them put together. Where _is_ the other alien, Saren?"

"I locked it in one of the storage cupboards, near the medbay. Your doctors are doing everything they can, of course."

"Of course." Fidus agreed.

"Of course." Garrus followed, because he had to, with only the slightest tone of bitterness lining his voice.

"This one looks like it could do with a doctor too. Hmm. Lock it in another storage unit, Garrus. Make sure everything inside is sealed first."

"Yes sir." He saluted then moved to pick the creature up once more, jostling it over his shoulder with little effort. Yet he found his feet unwilling to budge. Definitely his father's son, Garrus had a hunger for more information, and turned back to the men with a nervous clear of his throat.

He really was a very bad turian.

"Forgive the query, sir, but why are we keeping two alive?"

Saren's mandibles locked stiffly, Fidus chuckled.

"Well, forgive me for answering a question with another question, but do you consider our best weapon against a new enemy?"

Garrus mulled over that for a while, thinking about his father in C-Sec. A successful investigator, the man was always asking questions, and constantly persevering.

"Knowledge, sir?" He said finally, shoulders stiff as realization slowly dawned on him.

"Exactly! Knowledge. Information. The more we know about this new species, the easier it will be to crush them. Don't interpret our kindness as a mercy, Garrus. These prisoners are to be treated well, but that's exactly what they are: prisoners."

Saren scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "More like experiments, once the salarian gets here."

"Salarian?"

"Dr Solus, brilliant mind. Or so I'm told. He was studying the first alien we captured back on Palaven. Before the… ah… radiation incident." Fidus shrugged. "If you must know, Garrus, we're to wait here in case any more of these creatures return and attempt to open the relay. Solus will be joining us here in a week or so to continue his studies with the new subjects."

"Hurrrr….nnngh…" as if on cue, the alien groaned, and the three of them jerked in surprise. Garrus had almost forgotten it was there, and finally decided the questions could wait.

"By the medbay, Garrus." Fidus reminded him, fringe plates resting in a gentle expression.

"Yes, sir. Going, sir."

"Oh, and you'll be taking first shift."

He knew he'd already pushed them too far, but he couldn't help himself, and another question bubbled forth despite his hesitation.

"First… shift, sir?"

"Yes. Someone has to guard it. The entire crew wants it dead, and I understand why enough to not trust everyone to control themselves. You and Private Ira will rotate guard duty."

His expression drooped, shoulders slumping.

This not only meant that it would be impossible for him and Ira to have any free time together, but also that he would now be spending his every waking hours guarding the very thing he wanted dead.

Guard duty. Cleaning toilets no longer seemed so terrible.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been asleep for three hours, and Garrus was starting to worry. After leaving the meeting he had dumped the alien on the storage room floor, ensured every crate was secured and safe from wandering fingers, then shut the door and locked it behind him. Every now and then he would check in the room by connecting to the camera via his omni tool, only to see that nothing had changed, and the alien was still.

Turians only needed up to four hours sleep, and most of the crew took those separately on rotating shifts. Three hours in one sitting seemed like an excessive amount; and the fact that he would be held personally responsible if it died throbbed in the back of his mind.

He was considering shaking it awake when the long-suffering Dr. Curae wandered down the corridor to greet him. At 6"3 he was short for a turian, with pale yellow face markings and a curiously blank expression. He had short head spikes, a stiff, awkward posture, and was covered from the elbows down in red blood.

"The other Taylors in here?" He said, mandibles twitching.

"Err, yeah. Taylors?"

"I've been reading the Palaven reports. Apparently the one there referred to itself as a Taylor."

Garrus nodded and led the way inside. The Taylor was still sprayed out on the floor, much to the doctor's horror. Curae reprimanded him severely for his "heartless attitude," and then forced Garrus to go collect a medical cot while he began his examination.

That in itself proved to be a tedious task. The medbay was on the other side of the deck, and so he was forced to pass the eating area. Nearly the entire ground team was seated around silver tables, laughing and joking about the successful mission as they ate. Ira spotted him stomping past, and stretched one arm out in a friendly beckon.

"Garrus, come join us." She called, indicating to the empty seat next to her.

He shook his head and continued marching without a glance in her direction. Ira could forgive him later, and Garrus was distracted by the battle raging on in his conscience.

Seeing the doctor treat the enemy with some dignity was making him think twice about his own actions. He still believe it had deserved his harsh retaliation during the attack; but now, maybe, he should adopt a gentler approach. It couldn't exactly fight back when it was dying. Garrus imagined how he'd feel if a squad of strange creatures suddenly boarded the ship and shot anyone insight. If he was brutally honest with himself, it hadn't stooped to anything he wouldn't do for his own crewmates.

Entering the medbay, he was surprised to discover it was not as busy as he'd imagined. Only three of the eight cots were in use, and two of those occupants were sitting up and chatting merrily about their last shore leave. Vestre, however, was motionless. Garrus went to stand by his bed with a gulp.

Only one eye was visible, the rest of Vestre's face was covered in bandages. No doubt to keep it held together. His visor read the turian's life signs, and Garrus was happy to see almost healthy readings. He'd live, though with a few scars.

"I'll come visit you later, Vestre." He promised before getting back to the job at hand, turning away reluctantly. With some difficultly, he wrestled a flimsy cot down the corridor. Dragging it proved easier than actual lifting, and the legs scraped loudly against the floor as he passed the eating turians once again. That earned him more than a few odd looks, and he glanced towards a frowning Ira before disappearing behind the wall and back to the storage room, pride successfully stung. Frustration made his actions a little too rough, and he struggled to make the damn thing fit; forced to pivot the bed on its side to even get it through the doorway. Dr. Curae regarded him impassively, and said nothing as Garrus cradled the Taylor in his arms and settled it on the bed. He even plumped up the pillows, but was met with nothing but a flinty silence in return. Garrus cleared his throat. "So, doc, whats wrong with it?"

"Her." Curae said, beginning to strip the Taylor of its bloody clothes.

"It's a she?" He averted his eyes to the ceiling as Curae exposed her waist.

"I believe so. Apart from the more er obvious signs, Dr. Solus reported that a certain swelling on the chest indicates the subject is female," he said waving his hands vaguely over her, "he suspects it has something to do with birthing. What I can't imagine. Here, hold this."

He took the bloody rags and watched as Curae poked and prodded, vibrating his mandibles in little 'hmms' and 'ahhs'. After a few minutes of this Garrus was sure the doctor was making it up as he went, and felt an impatient rumble of a growl travel up his chest and ruffle his own mandibles.

"Hm, yes, very interesting."

"What is?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Notice the dots on her cheeks? I was wondering if they were tribal markings, or perhaps an indication to rank."

"I think they're just part of its skin."

"Her skin."

He shrugged, regarding the Taylor darkly. "Why is it still asleep?"

Corae shuffled and shrugged, currently bending her arm and prodding the soft skin underneath. "I er, I'm not sure. It's possible they just sleep for longer periods than we do. Or, more likely, that you really did a number on the little thing when you were choking her."

Garrus turned his head. Ira could never keep her damn mouth shut. "Well, what are you going to do then?"

"Usually I'd slather on some medi-gel. But we don't know if the Taylors are allergic to our medicine. I propose we just let her get some rest and wait."

"You can't be serious, doc." That seemed like the opposite of what they should do, and Garrus felt the prickle of annoyance growing louder, as well as his headache. "Is that what you did with the other one? You're just waiting for the real expert to get here while you watch them die?"

Curae locked his mandibles and – if it was possible – stood even stiffer. "That Taylor is in _much _poorer condition, so I treated him. I had to take risks. But we can't do that with both in case the medicine ends up deadly. I made a tough call, Vakarian, and now we have to stick with it."

"Understood, doc." Though he still disagreed. They could at least help a little, give her an air mask or something. Doing anything seemed better than doing nothing. She was the control group in some mad experiment, and his principles raged over the fact.

Conversation butchered, the turians continued to examine the Taylor in a stony silence. After bending each extra finger and turning the arms, Curae held her by the foot and brought her leg up, and up, and up. Garrus winced and sucked through his teeth as he slowly brought the Taylor's foot above her head without even hearing a crack.

"That can't be right." Curae said, muttering under his breath.

"Spirits, that's disgusting. Do they even have bones?!"

"Like I said," he gently brought the leg back down and wiped his hands on his medical robes, "best to leave her alone and let her rest until Dr. Solus arrives. I'll check again on her tomorrow."

"Okay, Doc."

Curae returned to the medbay and Garrus back to his station outside the door. It would be another four hours before Ira arrived to relieve him of his duties. That was sure to be enough time for the Taylor to finish sleeping, and he kept his omni-tool on to wait for the inevitable.

* * *

Ira would be arriving in five minutes, and the Taylor was still asleep.

Garrus paced outside the door. Eight hours. She had been asleep for eight hours. That couldn't be good, and he faintly considered rushing for the doctor; until he realized Curae wouldn't do anything; except maybe fondle her flexible limbs a bit more, which was nothing short of sickening.

No, he'd just have to wake her up by force, make sure she was okay, then go back to guarding the door until Ira arrived. Maybe he could even give her some of his medi-gel. The asari weren't allergic to it, and she resembled them more than anything. He was sure it would be fine. As long as she didn't die on his watch.

Decision made, he barged into the room with determination set in his mandibles. Garrus did not hesitate under the fear he'd change his mind, and strode to the bed in two long strides. He clutched onto her bony shoulders and shook, gently at first, with a little more force as he got increasingly desperate.

"Wake up. C'mon, just wake up."

* * *

"Mass Effect relay in sight." Joker's voice announced throughout the ship. Shepard strode out of the elevator and through the CIC, nodding as Private Jenkins saluted.

"Relay in range, entering transmission sequence."

This would be the first time the Normandy went through a Mass Effect relay, and she noted with a smirk that Joker's voice sounded a little higher than usual.

"We're connected, calculating transmit mass and destination."

It was understandable. She herself was a little nervous. And not just over the new ship. They had been given one objective before leaving Earth:

Find the aliens.

It had been eight years since humanity had discovered Pluto's relay, and they had been expanding their reach to the galaxy ever since. A mere hundred years ago, living on Mars had been just a pipe dream, yet – with the discovery of the mass effect relays – humans now stretched past the Sol system and into new territory. The rulers of the galaxy. Or so they believed, until survivors had returned to Earth in a half broken ship a week ago, reporting wild stories of an alien attack.

With the Normandy's stealth systems, she had the best chance at taking the new species by surprise. Hackett had ordered them to engage fire as soon as contact was made. Anderson had disagreed and urged Shepard to find a peaceful solution. She still wasn't sure which option she would go for.

"Entering relay in three, two, one."

Her niggling thoughts were silenced as the ship was rocketed forward in a blue blur, and she held the back of Joker's seat with one hand while looking out the cockpit windows, smile widening. In a matter of seconds they finished the jump and slowed down in a completely different solar system, all in the space of mere minutes.

"Good job, Joker."

"Good job?!"

Oh no. Shepard mentally kicked herself as the pilot twisted his neck to glare up at her, resisting the urge to wince.

"I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead _perfectly, _in a new ship,on my first try. _First try._ That's not good, that's amazing. Incredible. Fantastic!"

"Astounding?" She supplied with a smirk, noting his struggle to come up with another adjective.

"What? Yeah. Yeah! Astounding."

"Shocking?" Kaiden joined in, sat next to Joker and regarding them both with a fond amusement.

"Ehhh. Not so much shocking. I mean, _of course_ I could do it. More like… like…"

"Unbelievable." Shepard said, Kaiden laughed before continuing their game.

"Preposterous."

"Implausible."

"Farfetched."

"No! None of those things. It's just… it's just _good_, okay?! Jeez." Joker huffed and turned back to his controls, flicking through orange screens until he found the one he wanted.

Shepard grinned. "I should go." She turned to continue her rounds, she still had to visit Ashley and James.

Suddenly the ship rocked like a seesaw, and she stumbled forward with a grunt.

"What was that?"

The boys were staring at her as if she'd sprouted horns, foreheads creasing into slow, worried, frowns.

"What was what, Commander?" Kaiden murmured, just as the ship rocked again, harder this time.

"That! Didn't you feel it?"

"No. Should I call up Doctor Chakwas?"

The Normandy was now lurching wildly from side to side like a bucking bronco. She was jostled to the point of feeling sick, and Shepard had fallen asleep in the mako before. Another rock sent her to her knees, then flung her backwards to crash onto her head. Compared to her, the others seemed fine, and stood with perfect balance, reaching out to her yet too far to touch.

"Commander, are you okay?"

"Shepard?"

Shepard_._

_Shepard…_

* * *

The first thing Shepard noticed was the seven foot tall velociraptor man shaking her by the shoulders.

Actually, that was the only thing she noticed, but it seemed the most pressing in any case. She recognized the blue face markings almost instantly, and her memories on the Normandy rushed back to her so fast it stung her head – or maybe that was the alien shaking her.

"Get off me!" She said, lashing out wildly with one fist. She landed a solid punch against his jaw, then kicked out and rolled onto her feet. The alien was taken by surprise, and he jumped back clutching his face with one hand. He spoke to her in that strange, lilting language, but she could not understand the low growls and clicky purrs, and merely sneered in return.

Backing away, Shepard was soon trapped against a pile of large crates. In fact, similar piles filled up the majority of the small room, with no windows and only one door – that the alien was currently blocking. He held his hands up and murmured more soft grumblings, but it did little and nothing to reassure her, especially with the flanging effect each rumble possessed. Shepard looked around wildly for an exit, and then found her salvation on the roof.

An air vent.

"Hey, listen dinosaur man, don't take another step," she side stepped, slipping in between two piles of crates despite the fact this made her even more trapped. "Don't come any closer."

He did, inching around the bed slowly. In the end it was his hesitation that saved her, and she suddenly pushed at one pile of crates with all her might. He realised what she was doing a second too late, and her last glimpse of the alien was the widening of his eyes before the boxes fell forward and he disappeared underneath them.

Not one for wasting time, she climbed up the stack still standing, and kicked open the vent before clambering into the air ducts and beginning her escape.

* * *

Garrus had been trying to calm the Taylor down, cooing silky promises that he wouldn't hurt her, while she retreated into the shadows of the little room.

He hadn't even considered the possibility of her escaping. He was blocking the only exit, and the door was locked even if she did get past him. He had no reason to worry.

Or so he'd thought.

He wasn't sure how, but Garrus found his legs trapped beneath, oh, four or five heavy boxes, watching in horror as two bendy legs disappeared into the air ducts and out of sight.

He had successfully woken her up; and immediately lost her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was hot on the garden world. Too warm for armour, yet Ashley wore it anyway, sweating under her pink protection as the others continued to argue.

"We should have waited in the escape pod. Its releases an SOS."

"Oh yeah, and who's around to read the fucking signal? Aliens. I'm not waiting for one of those spikey bastards to pick me up."

"I'm telling ya' we need to get back to the escape pod."

"No we need to look for the others."

"What others? The others are dead!"

She turned back to the group with a low whine. James and Jack were close enough to butt heads, snapping at each other while Dr. Chakwas looked on wearily, happy for the rest if not for the company.

Ashley had always known Shepard's job was hard, but she hadn't realised how difficult they made it for her. The crew was slowly falling apart without someone to lead them, and she didn't feel up to being the replacement. Shepard always knew what to say, she had a gift for finding the exact words needed to defuse a fight or earn someone's trust. Whilst Ashley tended to have foot in mouth disease, yet she spoke up anyway, just because she didn't really have a choice.

"Enough! Fighting each other _isn't_ going to help. We've just got to find some water and figure out what to do from there. One step at a time. Got it?"

They nodded, though Jack was rolling her eyes.

"Whatever, Princess."

She ignored her and walked on. They had been trekking through the jungle for the best part of the morning. Her legs ached, and her feet throbbed from blisters. To make matters worse, Ashley soon found herself covered in bites. Typical. The one thing this planet had in common with Earth, and it was blood sucking bugs.

* * *

"Maybe Joker managed to escape." James broke the silence a few hours later, one arm around the doctor as he half carried her up the hill. "He didn't abandon ship. He could have landed somewhere, he might find us."

"Pfft. That crazy bastards long gone. Half the engine was on fire when we left. No way he made it." Jack said, successfully killing any hope the others had held. Though she didn't notice, scratching at her tattoos as the bugs continued their feast. Ashley had joined the army because it was her family's calling. Jack had joined because it was either serve with Shepard or go back to prison. They had nothing in common, and didn't get along. Yet faith had unfairly stuck them with each other.

At least she had James. She was thankful for that.

The escape pod had landed on the nearest hospitable planet two days ago, but they hadn't felt lucky about it. They'd spent the first day watching the sky, waiting – willing – for another escape pod to come into view like a shooting star. But there had been none. They were alone.

Ashley assumed that the alliance would send out a search party when they didn't return. They could safely rely on Anderson's loyalty to Shepard for that. However it would take them a few days to realize something was up, another two to gather a crew and send off a ship. Then three more to reach the end of the Sol system and get through the relay. Then they'd actually have to start searching. So they just had to survive on the planet for two weeks, maybe three if they were unlucky.

Easy, if they found water. If not, well, she didn't like to think about it.

Climbing the hill was slow, tedious work; and the sun was beginning its decent when they finally made it to the top. Chakwas and Jack immediately sat down, taking heavy breaths and leaning against the trees. Even James looked worn out, and his shirt clung to his sweaty chest as he stood next to Ashley; inspecting the view with a sneer.

"Maybe James is right, we probably should head back to the escape pod." She said after a moment's silence.

"Thank you!"

"Are you shitting me?" Jack scoffed and jumped to her feet, hands definitely beginning to glow a faint blue. "I didn't walk up this fucking hill just to go back down again!" She flung her arms in the air, regarding them with bitter resentment. "Besides, there's no more water in the pod. And there's no way doc can get back down."

"S-Speak for yourself," Chakwas managed to mutter. But it was true. The doctor didn't look well. Her skin was covered in a cold sweat, usually precise hands now shook, and her eyes were shallow, lined with dark, baggy skin.

"Jack, the whole point of making it to the top was to look for water. Well, we're here. And I can't see any. Can you?" Ashley indicated to the view behind her. It was a sea of green. The jungle stretched on for miles, for all they knew it covered the entire planet. "Whats the point in wasting energy if there's nothing we can do? Let's just wait at the pod for help. The alliance will rescue us."

In three weeks.

"We won't last that long!" Jack tended to shout what everyone else was too afraid to even mutter aloud, and the uneasy silence was the only answer she received.

Ashley felt like hitting her. "Well what do you suggest? We just run around lost until we all drop down dead? There's nothing we can do, Jack."

"Fuck you, Barbie! I never took you for a quitter."

"Quitter?! Say that again, you freak!"

"Guys!" James came in between them, pushing them away from each other before it ended in blows. "Calm down. Silencio. We _can _find water." He slapped a bug against his neck, "theres wildlife. They must be drinking something."

"Yeah, our blood you dipshit." Jack said.

"Maybe we can get water from the trees?" Ashley suggested thinly, doubting herself. What sort of leader was she if James had to be the voice of reason?

"Do you hear that?" Chakwas said, voice barely a whisper.

"How are we meant to get it out of the fucking trees?"

"Maybe you could use your biotics to knock one down, and then James could –"

"Ha! Are you kidding me? I can't even keep the mosquitoes off me. No water, no rest, no food equals no biotics, Princess."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

They began to fight again, and this time James let them as he watched with his arms crossed, too tired to intervene a second time. Chakwas raised her arm in a poor attempt to grab their attention, but it was little use when she couldn't even stand.

"I'm serious. I can hear – stop. Stop it." The doctor didn't raise her voice, but she wasn't pleading, and her tone screamed command. All three heads swiveled in her direction on the floor, though Jack didn't let go of Ashley's hair. "You're soldiers. Act like it. What would Shepard make of you all right now? She'd be furious." Ashley felt her face heat up with shame as they were scolded like children, though Jack merely turned away. "Now listen. I can hear something."

She frowned. "Are you sure, doc? I can't hear – " Ashley paused. No, now that she concentrated, she could definitely hear something. It almost sounded like an engine, but that was impossible. Unless the aliens had found them after all. "We've got to hide. Move it! Go, go, go!"

They jumped to action quickly, James scooped the doctor up and they began to run back down the hill without another protest. But Ashley's weary legs were struggling to keep her up any longer, let alone sprint, and she tripped more often than not. Eventually, Jack grabbed her by the arm, and they began to help each other through the undergrowth whilst James struggled with the doctor a little ahead.

But the noise only grew louder, and now it wasn't just a little hum in the back of her head, but a great roar that hurt her ears and made her blood chill. Wheels were crashing through the jungle, trampling anything in their way. They were catching up.

"Keep going! I'll hold them off." She skidded to a stop and drew her assault rifle. Ashley guessed that the others would have followed without question had she been a real leader, but as it was they stopped, looking back at her as if she was mad. Jack opened her mouth, no doubt to call her an idiot, but she cut her off and pushed her away. "MOVE!"

Chakwas face was streaked with tears, and James nodded before reluctantly turning and continuing to run. Jack stayed a moment longer, teeth gritted.

"Ah shit, princess. You better catch up! Fuck me, just catch up!" And with that she left, chasing after James and Chakwas.

Ashley watched until they disappeared under the bank, then turned back up the hill. She wanted to cry, but she was Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, and she never cried. Instead she stood proud and tall, aiming with the fierce determination the whole family possessed.

It faintly occurred to her that bullets would be useless against whatever metal tank the aliens were hiding in. But if she could delay them for even a few moments, just for the others to get away, then it was worth it.

She pictured her sisters, back on Earth with their husbands. Probably angry she hadn't called them in days with her latest gossip.

Nearby birds fled from their nests, alien calls angry to have been disturbed.

She thought about her father, and her Grandfather. They'd be proud. No doubt boring anyone who would listen about her bravery.

Pebbles rolled down the hill, first the flash of metal, then the tank appeared on top of the bank.

Shepard too. She would have forced her to keep running and guarded them herself, the way she had on the Normandy. The only difference was, Shepard would have caught them up, looking bruised and battered and smug all at once. Shepard would have gotten them out of this. She would have led.

The machine was nearly upon her now, and looked as if it was slowing down. Big mistake. Ashley popped her heat sink, aimed, and managed a small, bittersweet, smirk.

"This is for Shepard you sons of bitches."

* * *

Night had fallen and the air had turned cold, yet Chakwas's skin was hot to the touch. James didn't know what to do. They'd made it back to the escape pod hours ago, and neither the aliens nor Ashley had caught up. Jack was pacing outside, swearing under her breath and angrier than usual.

James held no false hope, he knew she was dead. Best not to think about it, this wasn't the first time he'd lost his entire squad. He had to concentrate on the ones who were breathing.

"Doc, ya' gotta help me out here." He hunted through the pod's medical supplies, but they were few and little compared to what the Normandy had. "What do you need? Theres some bandages, a funny looking pot of something, err, some needles, a – "

"A shot." She said, voice a wheezy whisper.

"Right. Got ya' covered." He picked up one of the needles and held it in her line of vision. "A shot of what, doc? Morphine? I think theres some –"

"No." She smiled faintly, "an allergy shot. All those mosquito things. I must – I must be allergic to the bites."

"Right, right. Allergy shot. I don't – there's not."

"It's on the Normandy. Best to just rest. It was always so hard to get you all to just rest." Her eyes were growing heavy, but her smile remained. He wasn't sure if she was delirious, dying, or both.

"The noise is back!" Jack shouted from outside, bashing against the pod. Chakwas wasn't going anywhere though, and James felt despair creep up on him as she shut her eyes and left him to lead.

"Doc, stay with me. We've got to move again. C'mon," he flung the medical supplies over his shoulder and picked her up. She was a dead weight in his arms.

"It's nearly here!"

"I hear you, Jack. Now shut up and help!" Thanks to the way they had landed, the door to the pod faced the sky, and climbing out was a struggle. Jack had to climb up and help pull Chakwas out whilst he pushed. By the time they reached the ground they could see the machines headlights, two glowing orbs signalling their doom.

"We're too late." Jack whispered, drained of her rage and left looking hopeless. James growled and looked around. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. They stood side by side, ready to fight, ready to die.

The mako took out two trees before it crashed into the clearing and skidded to a stop with a squeal. James couldn't quite believe it, and clutched onto Chakwas tightly as the door whooshed open and two smiling faces greeted them from within.

"Finally! You know how long I've been looking for you guys?" Joker was in the driver's seat looking smug, Ashley leapt down to help carry the doctor.

"You bastards!" Jack said, not sure whether she should be angry or overjoyed. James knew which he felt.

"Oh senior, I could kiss you!"

"Save it. The Normandys about two hours away. Gabby and Kennith are working on the engine while I've been looking for your sorry asses."

They climbed in, happy to see each other and talking all at once. Ashley explained how she had nearly run out of bullets until she'd finally realised it was the mako. Then she'd thought she was hallucinating and shot anyway, much to Joker's disapproval. James realized then that he hadn't been handling Ashley's death well at all, and he embraced her without warning before the door was even closed, squeezing tightly and burying his head into the crook of her neck.

"Oof! Nice to see you too, Vega. Wait. Are you crying?"

"No. Just something in my eye is all. Damn bugs." He let go and took his seat next to the doctor. Like always with the mako, it was a bumpy ride. But – he thought with just a little bit of amusement – not as jerky as when Shepard was behind the wheel.

"So whats the plan? Fix the ship and head back to Earth?" He asked Joker.

"Sounds good. But first, we've got to rescue the commander."

James, Ashley, and Jack shared a glance. None of them relished the idea of seeing the aliens again. It would be dangerous, a suicide mission. But this was Shepard they were talking about. She was the reason they'd escaped in the first place. The commander that had done it for them without a seconds hesitation, and so it was with a gentle nod from all three that their decision was made.

They would rescue Shepard.

* * *

(Don't worry. Everyone's favorite Shakarian are back in the next chapter, promise. =] )


	5. Chapter 5

It was physically impossible for Garrus to crawl into the air ducts and follow, and so he was stuck rushing down the corridor, hearing the occasional clank up above; and trying desperately to figure out which exit she would come across first.

The air ducts ran throughout the entire ship, but some tunnels were closed off to save on oxygen supplies. The next vent was probably in the private bunks. He imagined the Taylor dropping down onto some poor, sleeping cadet. He imagined their reaction when it happened.

Crap.

He nearly crashed straight into Ira around the corridor, who widened her eyes before giving him a scathing glare.

"Hey stranger," she said. "I came to give you a break. Why aren't you outside the door? We're not suppose – "

"SHHHH!"

He clamped his hand over her mouth, pinning her rumbling mandibles to her face as he listened with baited breath. The Taylor had come to a junction up above, and he could practically hear her thinking, deciding which route to take.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

She turned left towards the armoury, and he headed that way at a jog.

"What are you doing?!" Ira followed, clearly growing more irritable by the moment. She pulled at his arm and scoffed when Garrus shrugged her off, glaring at his head spikes. "You better tell me what's going on right now, Vakarian, or I swear to spirits –"

"She's loose." He snapped, still staring at the ceiling as they moved.

"You let it escape?!" This time Ira succeeded in dragging him to a stop, and Garrus half turned with an impatient glare of his own, the Taylor scrambling ahead.

"She." He corrected.

"How could you let it get out?! It was unconscious."

"She. And I underestimated her, she's resourceful, okay?!"

"That's your great excuse?!"

They marched on, catching up to the clattering up above quickly. Behind Garrus, Ira drew her pistol. "I was just making sure she wasn't dead. Then the next thing I know I'm buried under ten heavy crates and she's climbing into the vents."

"Ugh. Spirits."

Without warning, Ira fired three quick shots at the metal duct above them. Garrus pulled her arm back before she managed the fourth, snarling loudly.

"What are you doing?!"

"Herding it away from the armoury. Don't worry I'll try not to hit it… much."

* * *

Three bullets whizzed past her legs, and Shepard curled into a tight ball to avoid them. Light seeped into the holes now left in the metal, and she was almost grateful for the cold air that brushed in with it. She was hot, lost, and couldn't see clearly in the dark.

The last thing she remembered was the blue face alien hissing at her face, and so she didn't know much. Apart from the fact that she was on the alien's ship, she was – unfortunately – very naked, and the bastards weren't messing around.

Well fine, she'd make them work for it.

With a distasteful curl of her lip she picked up the pace. All pretence of being quiet was gone now that she knew they weren't above shooting her out, and Shepard crawled through the air ducts as fast as possible before she got a bullet in the leg. She didn't have much of a plan. In fact it was more of a vague to do list: lose the aliens, find her crew, and get the hell out of here. Granted that sounded easier said than done.

The tunnels broke off once more, and she turned to go left, but two more shots in front herded her right. Oh they were smart, and she growled like a caged animal as she was forced in a direction they deemed more suitable. It was time for plan B. It was time to fight.

* * *

Ira was far too liberal with her pistol in his humble opinion, and Garrus winced with every shot. Not only did she risk alerting the entire crew to their presence, but the Taylor's safety was also in danger, and he felt oddly protective when the dumb thing was trapped up there helpless.

"Ira, stop. How are we ever going to reason with her if you keep shooting?" He snapped.

"Who said anything about reasoning? I'm leading it into another storage unit." She shot again, sending the Taylor right instead of left, away from the barracks.

"Her." He corrected with a cold glare, following. "And what if someone hears you? Or, maybe, notices all the _holes _you're putting in the ship!?"

"I'll respectfully explain how I was simply fixing _your_ mess." She paused at a junction, waiting for the Taylor to move first. When it didn't bother Ira simply shot it into action, five more bullets that forced it right.

If Garrus didn't know any better, he'd think Ira was enjoying herself.

* * *

Shepard was sick of being driven like some lost sheep, dodging bullets and scrambling down the air ducts for dear life. She was an N7, she was better than this, and as soon as she came to her first vent opening she was kicking through and down to the ground with the intention to fight.

Only to find she was in another storage room.

"SON OF A - !"

She rushed to the door, but it didn't have any kind of handle and was clearly automatic… somehow. She could hear the alien's just outside, and it sounded like they were arguing. Well, they'd have to come in and collect her sooner or later, and she took cover by one side with a hungry glint in her eyes.

Judging by the strange voices, she counted two. Not the best of odds, considering the genetic advantages these bastards possessed already, but she'd handled worse, and fear did not creep up on Commander Shepard today.

The door swooshed open, a familiar blue face wandered in –

She lashed out with a cry, grabbing him by his head spikes and pulling him down to meet her knee. One, two, three. He snarled and grabbed her waist, lifting her from her feet and attempting to throw her over his shoulder. An awkward wrestle broke out between the two of them, and Shepard was wiggling past him and out the door when the other alien finally stepped in.

Here was her herder. This one was shorter, with no head spikes for her to grab. Her eyes were cold, and held no pity as she shot Shepard in the thigh.

"Argh!" With no shields or armour, she fell forward clutching at her bloody leg. Shepard was surprised to find Blue Face being the one to offer his support and catch her, wrapping one arm around her waist and picking her up gently.

Great. There went her escape.

The two began arguing with each other in those lilting purrs while she clutched onto a plated shoulder for support. She had the funny suspicion that Blue Face was on the side of 'hey why don't we try not to shoot the human?' This was astonishing, considering her neck still burned from his earlier treatment.

Hope drained from her as well as blood. She felt useless and bare and vulnerable. Blue began to carry her down the corridor and she did not even protest, instead attempting to cover up her nakedness feebly with one hand. The second alien followed, staring at her, hard.

"Just wait, you bastards. Just wait." Shepard murmured, before losing consciousness.

* * *

When Shepard woke up she felt too weak to even move. Not that it mattered, as someone had strapped her to the bed. Heavy metal bars were slid across her chest, stomach, and thighs, pinning her to the table.

However, this in itself wasn't her biggest problem, as she found herself being poked and prodded by not one alien, but three.

Two she recognised. Her old friend Blue Face, and the Spikeless one who'd shot her, were stood together glaring in different directions. The third was on her other side and further down, rubbing gel onto her bullet wound, which would have been terrifying if the substance wasn't oddly soothing.

"So you're all helping me now? Makes a change." She said, joking with herself seem as it was either that or panic.

Three heads swivelled in her direction. Spikeless sneered, Blue purred words back towards her, mandibles rising slightly. She was desperate to know what they were saying. Naturally, Shepard had a long list of pressing questions. What did they want with her? Where were the rest of her crew? Why were they doing this?

Why were they doing this?

The aliens had, once again, started to argue amongst each other. It reminded her oddly of Ashley and James bickering, and tears pooled in her eyes as she recalled her beloved crew. She assumed the one by her leg was some sort of medic, as the other two had the decency to look sheepish once he'd started scolding them, avoiding eye contact and looking down at their feet. It was satisfying at first, even if she didn't know what he was shouting at them for. Maybe he wanted her unharmed, or maybe he was mad that they hadn't shot her in the head. Hard to say.

Eventually her smugness turned to distress, Shepard rarely found herself completely helpless. She did not enjoy being stuck on a bed whilst they acted as if she wasn't there. It was disconcerting, and she felt panic trickle down her spine and into her muscles. She was getting claustrophobic, and a sheen of cold sweat dotted her skin as the alien's ignored – or simply didn't notice – the warning signs.

"Taayluuurr?" Blue Face suddenly said, pointing at her.

"What?" She said, angry at how out of breath she sounded.

"Taaayluurr?"

"N-No. Shepard. Shepaaaard." Idiot. Where had he even gotten Taylor from?

All three frowned, clearly not the answer they were hoping for. Not that she cared.

* * *

"Shepaard?" Garrus repeated, struggling with the guttural language. "Do you think that's her name?"

"No. Who cares? Stop talking to it, Garrus." Ira snapped, rolling her eyes. "You don't even have to be here anymore, you're off duty."

That was true, but he didn't quite trust Ira enough to leave her alone with the Taylor, and they both knew it.

"Hm. Interesting development." Doc said, nearly done with the bandages he was wrapping around her thigh. "It seems the Taylor's are smarter than we anticipated. She can certainly understand us, if given enough guidance."

"She can't understand a word we're saying." Ira said, snapping.

"Not what I meant, Private." The doc looked exasperated, and seemed relieved when he'd finally finished fixing Ira's mess, happy to leave them. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I need to check on my other patient. Try not to kill this one." He bowed his head, paused, and then gave the Taylor a small smile.

If the wrinkling of her nose was anything to go by, she wasn't impressed, and the doctor gave up completely after that and left the room. Garrus wondered if smiles meant something else to her, or if she simply couldn't recognize the expression on a turian face.

"Shepaaard?" He tried again, ignoring the scoff behind him. The little thing seemed to light up whenever he said it, bobbing her head up and down and flashing him her blunt teeth. "Shepaaard. I think that's her name, Ira."

"I think you should stop talking to it."

"Gaaarrrus." He spoke out slowly, pointing at his chest. "Garrus."

"Gurrrrusss?" Shepard tried, looking a little startled in response to his excitement, clapping his hands together and bobbing on his feet. "Yes! Yes! Did you hear her, Ira? It's like having a varren that can slowly learn how to talk."

"Gurrus. Ga – Gaarus. Garrus." Shepard continued to test his name out on her pink little tongue. There was definitely more to this species than he'd previously considered, and the black bruises on her neck suddenly consumed him with shame.

"Ugh. I'm sick of this. You're fraternizing with the enemy, Garrus. We shouldn't even be in the room with it." Ira clicked her mandibles and gave Shepard her coldest glare. That same look that had chilled his blood and told him countless times that he was in deep shit. Yet Shepard didn't seem unnerved in the slightest. If anything, Garrus was sure he could read disapproval on her features, forehead creasing into a… a frown?

Shepard was brave. It didn't take much to figure that out.

Ira gave up and turned away. "You shouldn't be calling it anything. It's best not to get too attached. The spectre will be taking it soon."

"Saren?" He said, startled.

"Yeah. You didn't think we were keeping it on a military ship did you?" Ira scoffed, as if unable to believe his idiocy yet still finding it typical. Garrus tried to ignore the anger rising up in his gut. "As soon as that Salarian doctor shows up Saren's taking the Taylors to the citadel with him."

"Why?"

"How am I meant to know? I'm not invited to those private war meetings either. Spirits. I guess his spectre status will get through all that ethical red tape. Who knows what kinda experiments that bug eyed Solus will want to do?"

Garrus felt the blood drain from his face, he looked back down towards Shepard, who pulled her lips into a tiny – exhausted – smile.

"Garrus?"

"Shepard." He murmured.


	6. Chapter 6

"Chair?" Garrus said, pointing at his seat and staring at her with that glaring smile.

"Yes, chair." Shepard all but groaned. She was sick of this game. For hours they had pointed at random objects and told each other what they were called. Only his growls and lilting purrs were more of a challenge for her human tongue to pronounce, more often than not he'd just shake his head at her and move on. Then, just to rub salt into an already bitter wound, Garrus would pronounce her version perfectly. In fact he was incredibly good at the game, only needing her to repeat once or twice, then never forgetting what it was he had learnt.

It was damn annoying losing to an alien, and she sighed, exasperated.

Obviously she had not hid her irritation, as Garrus withdrew his hand to his lap and resolved to sit in uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, it's not your fault." She said, though he could not understand. Shepard knew she should be grateful. He did not have to sit with her, in fact she was sure he was meant to stand outside the door like Ira did. Yet he wandered in and tried to talk to her whenever it was his turn for guard duty, even though conversation was stale to say the least.

He frowned at her, tiny eyes darting to her bruised neck before turning away again. She was sure he'd tried to apologize for that earlier, but whenever they attempted a normal conversation, that didn't involve pointing, it ended in confusion. Several times she'd asked after her crew, only to get 'chair' or 'bed' or 'door' in return. Shepard had also begged for water, acting out drinking and pointing at her neck; Garrus had just looked guilty, and stared at her bruises with a soft murmur.

Damn it. She had a million questions and no way to express them. It was like having a dog who could slowly learn to talk, only the dog was an idiot, and had strapped you to a bed with no chance of escape.

"Food." She begun to try again, chewing to make her point, "water. I'm thirsty." She pointed at her stomach this time, rubbing it then indicating to her mouth.

He stood, mandibles flaring as he touched her bandages gently and purred.

"No, not doctor. Food. Foooood." Shepard said. As if to prove her point, her stomach let out a loud grumble rumbled loudly, and apparently this meant something to Garrus, as the alien began to talk very fast with those growly syllables, nodding his head and leaving in a hurry.

"Huh? No, wait!" Too late, and she heard the door click shut before he hurried off.

She growled and flung back onto her pillow, pouting. "He better not bring that doctor."

* * *

Garrus returned to his post half an hour later. Shepard was still where he'd left her – thank the spirits – slouching against her pillow and staring at the now sealed airduct with yearning desire. In his tow was Ira, still snarling her protests and demanding he take the food back to the kitchens.

He ignored her.

Shepard barely bothered to glare at them as the door whooshed open, but perked up when she noticed the silver tray in his hands. Garrus gave himself a mental pat on the back. So she had been asking for food.

"This is a waste of our resources. Did you even ask the Captain first?" Ira skirted around the bed, arms folded over her chest.

"I did actually. He approved of the idea. We don't want her to starve to death, Ira."

"What did the spectre say?"

He failed to answer, wincing as he remembered Saren's bitter tone. 'why the sudden compassion, Vakarian? Worried the monster will die?'

"Garrus? Did Saren approve?"

He placed the tray on Shepards lap and released her from the shackles holding her chest down. Shepard was glad to be sitting up again, and flashed him her teeth in that odd smile of hers. Meanwhile Ira was sucking through her own, hand inching to her gun.

The turians watched as Shepard first gulped down her mug of water. A trickle ran down her pink cheek and Garrus followed it, ignoring the scathing glare Ira shot his way. Next came the food, and Shepard prodded at the blue substance with a wrinkling of her nose. Clearly not what she was use to, but she dug in happily enough, smacking her lips together at the foreign taste.

"Why are you always in here with it?" Ira said whilst they watched the Taylor eat.

"Ira, not now" he groaned. They'd done nothing but argue for the past two days. He suspected she was two clicks away from challenging him to a fight down at the ring. And he was near mad enough to accept. Garrus was plain sick of having his head bitten off whenever he so much looked at Shepard. "I just think the more we can learn about this species the better."

"Bullshit. You like it."

"Her." He all but growled.

"See?! I have half a mind to report y – " her threat fell short as Shepard started choking, pink face turning a blotchy red while she spluttered and coughed up her food. "Stupid thing can't even chew." Ira smirked.

Garrus hissed in worry, patting Shepard just that little too hard on the back as she clutched at her neck and braced against her leg straps. The tray of food went flying and she strained and struggled, foam forming at the corner of her mouth. "Ira, get the doctor!" He said, horrified.

Ira kept still, laughing.

Shepard continued to struggle, nails leaving red trails in her neck as she cut through skin. Garrus reached out for her, hesitated, then sunk his fingers into the strange wavy strings that formed on her head, surprised at their softness. He tilted her face close to his own. Shepard stared up at him, wide eyed and terrified, with maybe just the smallest hint of anger. She probably thought he'd done this on purpose, and any trust they'd managed to scrape together before was now gone. No matter, he'd work on that later. With a desperate urgency, Garrus stuck his fingers into her mouth and reached down her throat. She felt wet and warm and bit against his fingers, hard. But there was no food to dislodge, and he came to the horrifying conclusion that this was actually an allergic reaction.

"She can't have dextro food… Oh crap. Ira, get Dr. Curae!"

"Since when do you give the –?"

"NOW!"

Ira spun on her heels with a snarl, slamming her fist against the door before she left, either to go collect the doctor or to just sulk in her room. It was hard to say, and Garrus forgot about her quickly. He ripped off the last fastens keeping Shepard's legs pinned down, snapping them with brute force and allowing her to roll onto her side. Immediately she began to vomit, blue sludge pouring from her mouth and onto his shoes with a splatter. Lovely. Garrus bit down his revulsion and rubbed her back, reminding himself that this was his own fault.

They stayed like that a while. Shepard emptying her stomach, Garrus attempting to sooth her with soft coos and gentle touches. Though his efforts were not appreciated; as soon as her shaking had subsided his hand was being swatted away, and she was glaring up at him with two stormy grey eyes, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand as her brow furrowed.

Oh crap.

"Shepard, I didn't realise. Shepard." He said in a gentle tone, as she would not understand any spoken apology. The language barrier was seriously going to get him into trouble. "Chair?" He tried weakly, attempting their game.

Bad move, as with an angry snarl that could rival Ira's, Shepard was on her feet and picking up said chair, flinging it at him.

He ducked, wincing as the heavy object crashed against the door. Shepard was upon him instantly, bashing her fists against his armoured chest. Clearly weak from earlier, otherwise he was sure she'd be landing him with a solid punch that could make a krogan reel.

"I didn't mean to make you ill! I promise. Shepard, stop!" He held onto her wrists, wrestling her back onto the bed and – regretfully - clipping her chest straps into place. Shepard continued to fight anyway, arching her back against the bindings. There was no talking her down, until another cramp left her groaning in pain, clutching her stomach and pressing her face into the pillow, defeated.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Shepard." Garrus pushed the sweaty pieces of string from her forehead, sighing with relief when he allowed him to do so. "Dr Solus is a salarian. He'll bring levo-amino food with him. Until then you'll have to stick to water." He said, more to himself than her, sighing.

Shepard was sick twice more before she managed to fall into a fitful sleep. It was as Garrus was cleaning the floor that he realised, Ira had not collected Dr. Curae.

* * *

Another two days passed with Shepard receiving nothing but water. Her rumbling tummy had evolved from a passing annoyance, into a stabbing agony that left her feeling exhausted whenever the spasms occurred. Not to mention the lack of bowel control she now had. Her shits had turned into uncontrollable, stinking runs that left her legs slick and forced the aliens to change the bed sheets each time – much to Ira's disapproval.

That was another thing. Though she did not like Garrus, he was a sight for sore eyes after Ira had been watching her. The female alien was becoming increasingly hostile, and was not above man-handling her whenever they were alone. Fighting back was no use. Once Shepard had twisted her wrist in protest as Ira tried to push her off the bed for fresh sheets, only to be pinned to the floor with a gun pressing into her neck and a lot of snarling in her ear.

No, if she'd learnt one thing it was to not fuck around with Ira. There'd be time enough to shoot her when she eventually escaped, which she would.

If Shepard had a third complaint (and she certainly did) it was the lack of clothes. Though the doctor had covered up her groin - and waist, for some odd reason - with bandages to give her a small shred of decency, no one seemed to care about her chest; and Shepard's nipples were constantly puckered with chill. Breasts obviously meant very little to the aliens though, and at the very least she had a scratchy blanket to hide under, if nothing else.

What was worse was the boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do. Her days consisted of saying random nouns to Garrus, trying not to shit the bed, shitting the bed, and avoiding Ira's glares. Even Garrus was becoming increasingly frustrating. His kind and gentle attitude only confused her, and his growing worry at her quickly deteriorating health was not helpful or wanted. She resented his sympathy, and he would be among the dead when she finally did escape, somehow, someday.

Even now, he was attempting to teach her the word for ceiling, pointing up at the air ducts and repeating some guttural word she could not remember. But his eyes were full of empathy, and his flanging voice cracked in a way that flared her temper.

He quickly noticed her refusal to play again, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence. Shepard tried not to clutch onto her belly, wincing as she wished for a distraction, anything to take her mind off her hunger.

"Shepard?" Garrus asked, and she turned to stare at him. He pointed at her head, then at his horns.

"It's hair." She said, tired. "Hair."

"Hair?"

"Yeah. Here." Without thinking, she pulled a strand off her head and passed it to him. Garrus practically fell off his seat, eyes wide as he stared at her in horror. Maybe it was the equivalent of watching a man pull off a limb, and despite her pain Shepard found herself laughing, shaking her head as it sent a rumble of pain down her front.

"N-No. It doesn't hurt. It's just hair. Look." She pulled off another, waving it gently in front of him as he sat back down. Every so slowly, Garrus reached out and curled one talon around a few red strands. He seemed utterly mesmerized, and Shepard smiled for the first time in days.

Until he tried to tug a chunk out, and she cried out, batting his hand away, moment over. "Ouch! Not so much as once. Jeez. Just one strand at a time. See?" She gave him the two strands still in her hand, and he examined them critically while she laid back down and tried to keep her eyes open. Her stomach was acting up again, and Shepard clenched her butt in fear of embarrassing herself. He obviously noticed her discomfort, as Garrus had directed his acute stare in her direction. She was getting better at reading his expressions, and the unhidden pity she found there nagged at her.

"Stop looking at me like that." She said, finding it therapeutic to talk to him even if he couldn't understand. "I know you tried to poison me. Or maybe it was Ira. One of you anyway, you're the worst guards in history." Her stomach grumbled, and Garrus's taloned hand reached it before her own, rubbing little circles onto her skin. It helped slightly, and so she allowed it. "Just wait. A few days rest and I'll be out of here. I'll find my crew, and maybe that Taylor you all keep barking on about. I'll… I'll…" Shepard sighed, sleep calling to her once again, eyelids turning heavy as Garrus continued his soothing rubs and purred some sentence at her. "Just wait, you're dead Garrus. You're dead."

* * *

It was another hour before Ira was due for her shift, yet the doors whooshed open only moments after Shepard had fallen asleep. Garrus turned to glare, then snapped to attention to find Captain Fidus stood in the door frame, hand leaving Shepard's stomach as if she were fire.

"Captain! I didn't – "

"At ease, Garrus." Fidus marched in, wandering to Shepard's head. Almost immediately his hand reached out to play with her hair, and Garrus bit down on his tongue, hard. "It's not dead, is it?"

"No, sir. The Taylor's sleep for long periods of time. Longer than us, longer than Asari even."

"Hm. I come bearing bad news I'm afraid. It seems our Salarian doctor has been delayed."

"D-Delayed, Captain?" He said, horrified. How long would Shepard have to wait for food now?

"Yes. Something about a plague, on Omega of all places. Kills turians apparently." Fidus scoffed. "I hardly understood what he was going on about to be honest. The man talks fast even for a salarian."

Fidus leaned down, doing what Garrus had been daydreaming about for days, and sniffed Shepard's hair. The intrusion of her personal space made him hot with anger. His hands clenched into fists, and Garrus held them behind his back to keep from tackling his Captain.

"What about her food, sir?" He said through a clenched jaw, failing to keep the temper from his tone, but at least distracting Fidus enough to stand back upright.

"Ah. Well there is some good news on that front. We've got a replacement you see. Just until Solus can arrive. I hear she's very good, if not a little young. The best in her class."

"You're too kind, Captain Fidus." A cheery voice rang out, and they both turned towards the culprit. Saren had joined them by the door way, a nervous Asari at his side. She smiled kindly at them both, dressed head to toe in a white medical attire. Garrus noted how similar her frame was to Shepard's. She'd finally be able to wear clothes. She'd like that.

"Hello. I am Dr. Liara T'Soni. This is the specimen, is it not?" She didn't give them time to answer, slipping past Saren and wandering to the bed. Eyes were wide with wonder, and Liara clasped her hands together in an unhidden excitement. "Oh but shes beautiful! Finally a female. Dr. Solus never told me they could grow red hair too."

"I take it then, you're familiar with the Taylors?" Saren's cold voice cut through her joyous demeanour, and Liara cleared her throat nervously as the Spectre rounded on her.

"Oh, well, yes. I mean – I've read _all_ of Dr. Solus's papers. Though my field of study is actually more cantered towards, urm, protheans. Prothean culture to be exact. I've just come from Knossos in fact. There are the most remarkable prothean ruins there, I could barely tear myself away. Well that's partly true, I mean, I would have been here yesterday, but there was this little issue with the barrier curtains and I accidentally suspended myself –"

"So this is the first Taylor you've even seen face to face?" The spectre cut her off and stepped forward. Garrus was amazed the commotion had not woken Shepard up, and glanced to her with a frown, noting the sweat dotting her forehead. A fever.

"Err, it is. But I, erm." Dr. T'soni was clearly feeling nervous, and glanced to Captain Fidus for moral support, receiving none. He was still staring at Shepard's hair, ignoring them.

"What use are you then, doctor? Why did Solus even bother sending you?"

His cruel words hung heavy in the air, and Liara's face had turned a deep blue, arms stiff at her sides. When she finally spoke, Garrus was impressed to hear her voice ring out firm and confident, glaring up at Saren with a bravery he'd be hard pressed to match.

"Because, Spectre Arterius, I know a great deal more than anyone else on this ship. Dr. Solus would not have sent me if he had no faith in my abilities, I can assure you. Not only that, but I've brought animo-food, suitable clothes, and medical supplies that are not strictly for turians. I also went to great pains and found a language chip that can be applied without an omni-tool. If I go, the Taylor will surely die, if her malnourished state is anything to go by. I give her another week, tops." She raised her chin, eyes narrowing. "If I stay, not only does she live, but we all get to understand what she is saying. I'm sure she has a great deal of secrets you would care to know."

Saren growled low under his breath, not breaking eye contact with Liara for a few more heated moments. Eventually he turned away.

"Fine. Garrus, help Dr. T'Soni insert the language chip. I want the beast ready for interrogations tomorrow morning."


	7. Chapter 7

Inserting the language chip had to be the toughest moment of Garrus's day; no, his entire year. Saying Shepard put up a fight was an understatement. What was usually a two minute injection for a child in a doctor's office turned into a half-hour struggle for the ragtag group.

Ira and Garrus were tasked with holding her down – easier said than done – and he struggled to keep his patience with Shepard, whilst Ira hadn't had any from the beginning. As a result, Ira now sported two bruised eyes and a chipped tooth, whilst his mandibles were scratched bloody by her apparently not-so-blunt nails. Even Liara – who Shepard clearly preferred over them already – hadn't been safe from her grabby hands, and had been pulled roughly by her tentacles. Garrus noted the tears in the asari's eyes as she finally managed to stick the needle in Shepard's neck.

Though they soon forgave Shepard for her violent nature, excited to hear her speak, even Ira lingered with bated breath.

He'd expected her to start talking straight away, to demand answers in a language he could finally understand. Yet she continued to scream at them in her strange tongue, and Liara was forced to explain how the chip needed to study her language first, record down every word she said and analyse each syllable separately before it could be compared with their own dialects.

In other words, the more Shepard talked, the quicker they'd be able to understand her.

Perfect then, that she was currently sulking with them.

"Shepard," Liara said, pushing the tray of asari food closer. "You can eat this. I promise."

It had been two hours since the ordeal, and Garrus had counted only two words leaving her lips – and he was sure they'd been insulting.

"It's no good. You'd think she'd be grateful." Ira was leaning against the wall, picking her teeth with one nail. "Little bitch is lucky shes still alive. Dr Curaes' all but given up on the other one."

Garrus grunted. Sad but true. Liara had only spent a few minutes with the second Taylor, returning to Shepard's prison to explain there was nothing she could do for him until Dr. Mordin arrived.

"Shepard, eat." He insisted. They'd been forced to strap her legs to the bed again, a fact she clearly was not happy with if her furrowed brow was anything to go by. She also didn't trust any food they pressed her way – which, he was reluctant to admit, was probably his fault – and the idea of force feeding her was slowly becoming their only option.

A plan Ira was looking forward to, though he wasn't sure why, forcing the chip into her hadn't exactly been fun. Pushing what she believed was poison into her mouth was, most certainly, a death wish.

"Isn't it odd how familiar she looks?" Liara said, breaking the surly silence and smiling at him from the other side of the bed.

"Familiar how? She looks nothing like us."

"No. Well, her figure I mean. It's so like asari, but then if you look at body scans, their organs are very similar to that of turians. These Taylors have a lot more in common with us than you'd think."

A shame then, he thought, that the turian fleet was preparing for their untimely decease.

He sighed wearily, tired and frustrated. Even the simple woosh of air gained him a glare from Shepard. Any progress they had made on trust was gone for good apparently, and he couldn't help but be a little irritated with her about it. He was the reason she was alive after all. Sure, he was also the reason she was stuck with them, but alive nevertheless.

"I should go. My shift starts in a few hours. I need some rest before then." He decided, rising to his feet and ignoring the way Shepard braced for impact. She made him feel like a monster, and he'd had enough of her company for one day.

Ira dipped her head. "I'll take my post outside then."

"Oh, don't you want to stay in here with me? I thought we could get a few words out of Shepard. I'm sure she'd prefer the female company." Liara said with just the faintest hint of desperation. Garrus couldn't tell if she was scared of being alone with Shepard, or if she really thought Ira would be of any help.

"No thanks. I've had my fill of alien psycho bitch." Ira sneered, flashing a broken tooth before leaving the little room and standing by the door.

Garrus gave Liara a weary smile before he turned down the hall and left them all to it. For the first time in days he was happy to get away from it all and to his room, practically collapsing into his bunk once there. Who knew standing guard could be so exhausting? Shepard made them work for it, purposefully. He did not doubt that she was done with trying to escape either, and with the way she was being treated, he begrudgingly could not blame her.

His thoughts drifted oddly to the captain, recalling how queasy it made him feel watching the man sniff her hair, but then sleep claimed him, and he began to dream of angry red headed aliens.

* * *

The weight on his chest was what woke him up, and Garrus grunted as grabby hands fondled his sensitive waist. The automatic lights were off, meaning that, by the ship's clock at least, it was late into the night.

"Ira?"

She hushed him, tongue flicking out to lick his neck. Her bony hips rubbed against his own, and Garrus felt the first tickle of arousal pull at his stomach. He could not remember the last time they'd tested his reach and her flexibility. For the past few days Ira had acted like she'd rather rip his neck out, and that still seemed like a very real possibility, if the way she was biting at it was any indication.

"Ira, we can't." He flashed a glance to the opposite bunk, then remembered that Vestre was still in the medbay with bandages holding his face together.

They were alone. Yet that didn't sooth his worries.

"We can, if you loosen up a bit. Wheres that Vakarian enthusiasm I enjoy so?" She twirled her fingers around the soft skin at his waist, dug in painfully for a few moments, and then stroked in a gentle rhythm that made him purr.

His head lolled back, hands squeezed her thighs, grinding her plates against him. Despite their clash in personalities, he had missed her warm body at night. Ira was already naked, and began to see to his clothes as well. She didn't bother with his shirt, instead pulling the laces of his trousers and tugging them over his protruding hips. She'd never been one for messing around, and her touches were demanding to say the least. Half his garments were banished to the floor, then Ira worked on tempting his member out from its sheath. Long fingers gentle but confident as they stroked and tickled.

Her touch drove him senseless. Garrus could feel himself giving into temptation, when a flash of red hair invaded his mind, and he winced at the anger he was no doubt about to unleash within Ira.

"What about Shepard?"

"What about it?!" She snapped, just like he'd known she would, fingers digging in painfully hard.

"Ah! I just meant – " Garrus growled, grabbing her hands and holding them away from him. "One of us is meant to be watching her."

"Oh. Don't worry about that." Ira turned to putty on top of him once more, tugging one hand free to rub her fingers against his member, making him hard without much trouble, damn her. "Saren sent me away early, said he'd watch it for a while."

"WHAT?!"

Garrus sat up so suddenly they nearly butted heads, taking Ira by the shoulders and shaking her. "You left them alone with Saren?! The spectre?!"

"Whats the big deal?! Get off!" She snarled and lashed out. The hand that had been so gentle only moments ago slapped him across his face, but he didn't care. He just wanted her off. He needed her gone.

Saren. Liara and Shepard were alone with _Saren_.

Pushing her from his lap, he got to his feet and fondled in the darkness for his uniform. Panic made him clumsy, and Ira watched with fire in her eyes as he struggled to pull his trousers back on.

"If you leave this room Garrus, I – " Her voice cracked, something that surprised him. He only ever saw Ira either angry or horny. She was not the crying type, and he turned to face her in the gloom, not sure if he even trusted the tears welling in her little violet eyes. "If you leave this room we're done. For good. I won't ever speak to you again, I swear. Not. One. Word."

His heart wrenched. He didn't want that, despite everything. It had just been a bad week for them. That was all. A rough patch. Why did she have to give him this ultimatum? Why couldn't she just understand?

"Is that a threat?" He murmured, low voice still seeming too loud.

"No. It's a promise."

Another pause, interrupted only by the ship's humming engines. She'd never looked more beautiful, sat naked on his bed, legs curled by her hip, supporting herself on one hand and watching him with vehemence. For a moment Garrus was almost sure she cared for him, really cared.

But as he waited, the tears did not spill onto her cheeks, and he slowly came to the cold realization that they never would. They probably couldn't. Ira was incapable of compassion, she'd left those under her protection to the mercy of Saren, all so she could reclaim her favourite toy; and his heart turned cold even if he still burned with desire.

"Good bye, Ira."

He turned, and immediately she screamed, flinging the nearest thing she could grab. Fortunately for him, Ira didn't have much reach, and it was only his pillow. The door slid shut before it hit its mark, and Garrus didn't spare a glance back as he ran to Shepard's cupboard of a cell.

The lights above flickered, not helping the fear that already electrified his blood. What Saren wanted with her was anyone's guess, and his imagination ran wild as he zoomed past the medbay, the cafeteria, and down towards the holding cell.

Yet when Garrus rushed through the door all was still.

He tried to control his ragged breathing, Saren was stood by the bed, Liara by the corner, Shepard was right where he'd left her.

"Vakarian, is it time for your shift?" Saren did not manage to keep the disdain from his voice, though he doubted he'd tried "no matter. You may leave. I've got everything under control here."

"Sir." He felt like an idiot, yet his feet refused to turn. Garrus studied Shepard's face, trying to recognize the foreign expressions he'd been practising on reading. She looked afraid. Or maybe that was the wrong word, he doubted Shepard would show a lick of fear even in front of a thresher maw. No, it was more cautious. Her odd little eyebrows were furrowed down, lips pulled tight at the corners, gaze varying between Saren and Liara, who – in contrast – did look terrified, now that he noticed her.

"Dr t'Soni, is everything alright?" He asked, ignoring the spectre's glare.

"O-Of course." She said, glancing to her feet.

"Leave, Vakarian. I'm giving you free time."

He continued to watch Liara. It was barely visible, he might not have noticed at a glance, but her head shook. A tiny tilt either way that sent his blood cold.

He was not leaving.

"It would be disrespectful to my Captain, sir, if I ignored my duties."

The spectre rose to his full height, and the muscles in Shepard's arms bunched in response, eyes remaining narrowed. Her unease rubbed off from him, and Garrus found himself wishing he had a gun.

"I outrank your Captain. If theres anyone you're disrespecting it is _me_." His tone brokered no argument.

"I… can't, sir."

He wasn't sure how he mustered the courage to stand strong and lock eyes with the spectre. There was just something about him that made his skin crawl. It was the wrong thing to do, lawfully; yet morally Garrus knew he'd make this decision again, and a thousand times over if his conscience had any say.

"You… can't?" Saren did not raise his voice, but somehow that made the tension thicker. Liara shrank further into the corner, wringing her hands together.

Shepard's gaze now remained fixed on Saren, face a blank canvas that he could not have read even if she'd been turian. Yet her presence was oddly comforting. He felt safer, somehow, with Shepard in the room. Even if she was strapped to her bed and currently incapable of controlling even her bowel movement.

"Saren," Liara said, voice cracking. "Shepard still can't talk. Maybe if you came back t – "

The suggestion sent the man's temper over the edge, and he cut her off with a snarl, stepping forward and swinging one arm back to strike. Maybe he wanted to slap her, maybe he just wanted to scare her, but Garrus intercepted him anyway, not really thinking of the consequences as they begun to crapple.

Pulling the spectre back proved harder than anticipated; despite his lithe frame, Saren was alarmingly strong, and snarled as he tried to twist away. Elbow flashed back, crunching into Garrus's cheek plate, and during the searing pain he couldn't help but recall the naked woman he'd left in his bed for _this._

"Ugggh!" Saren gained the upper hand with ease, and Garrus was pinned to the wall by his neck without a moment's notice. Liara screamed, Shepard watched with what he assumed was horror, and Saren squeezed.

Squeeze. Squeeze. Wheeze.

The irony was not lost on him, and Garrus might have laughed had he been able to breath. So this is what it had been like for Shepard, choked by a turian. At least his skin wouldn't turn blue and purple as a result, but Ira wasn't here to save him like she had with her.

Wheeze. Wheeze. Squeeze. Wheeze.

"Let go of him!" A shock of blue, and then Saren was being lifted from the air as Liara's palm shot out a singularity. She was clearly a powerful biotic, as crates and medical supplies quivered before being slowly dragged towards the sphere of dark energy. Garrus too felt his feet sliding, and grappled blindly for purchase whilst Saren struggled to reach his gun with the lack of gravity.

Even Shepard's heavy bed creaked along the floor, and she cried out shrilly, hands fumbling against the sheets as she tried to shuffle away; the biotic ability clearly new to her.

"Stop! Stop it! I'll talk!"

Liara gasped, the sphere disappeared, and both turians fell to the floor with grunts.

"I'll talk…" Shepard said again, in perfect turian, tone stronger than he could have believed.

She sounded beautiful.

She was also in big trouble.

"I knew it," Saren grasped the bed sheets with one claw and pulled himself up, eyes dark. "I knew you were lying."

"I never lied," she held her chin high. Shepard had taken charge of the group despite being their prisoner, despite her unfitting gown, skinny appearance, and unwashed state. She was a natural leader, and Garrus no longer felt like the one doing the protecting. "You just had nothing interesting to talk about, you big, stupid, dinosaur."

The insult boiled his temper once more, and Saren latched on to Shepards jaw, this time meeting no resistance as Garrus and Liara watched on – stunned into silence.

"Vakarian," Saren's face was close to Shepard's as he spoke, and the two did not break eye contact.

"Yes, sir?"

"If you want to survive the night, you'll take the Taylor to the Captain's office for her interrogation_. Now."_

Damn him, but he was back to following orders, despite having a faint idea of what these interrogations would involve. And damn her for not talking this entire time. For not letting them know the chip had worked, for keeping him in the dark when he could have prevented this.

Damn.

"Of course… sir."

Saren gave a curt nod and finally released her, turning on his heels and marching out without another word. No doubt to get ready.

The doors tried to close, but was caught on an upturned box from Liara's singularity, thumping repeatedly against the stupid thing whilst the others watched with weary faces.

"That's something." Shepard broke the silence first, much to their surprise, "why do you all call me Taylor? That's _not_ my name."

"Shepard," his tongue felt heavy, in fact everything did, and he slumped into the chair next to her cot before continuing. "He's going to kill us."

"Well," Shepard said, "shit."


	8. Chapter 8

It had been raining all week. Miranda crossed her legs and stared out at the floor length windows. Thick droplets created a melancholic track in the chilly waiting room. She'd been there for an hour; ignoring the haughty looks the receptionist flashed her way.

Fat cow. Stare all you like.

Miranda remained mostly still, tongue easing out to wet her lips, eyes flicking away from the window every now and then, to watch the television mounted above the receptionist's desk.

The news had taken the same habit as their weather, and only one story had caught the public's attention. Alliance ship missing in uncharted space. No distress signal. No warning. No trace. Despite knowing all the details – and then some – Miranda listened to the aging anchor man anyway. Droning on about technical failures that were mere speculation. Explaining dumbly that expert scientists had built a replica ship of the Normandy, and were attempting to see what had gone wrong. They suspected the oxygen tanks had malfunctioned, or simply seeped out into space. There was also the low rumour that Commander Shepard had gone rogue, having grown up on the streets before joining the alliance. Was their hero still a criminal at heart? Excuses, excuses.

"Sad, isn't it?" Miranda must have been staring at the television longer than she thought, as Miss Haughty had attempted small talk, indicating to the news report with one stumpy finger.

"Excuse me?"

"The missing soldiers. It's sad. Everyone could see it coming though, couldn't you?" She huffed, shrugging one shoulder. Miranda turned her gaze to the wart on her chin. "Venturing that deep into space. As if living on Mars wasn't far enough. You ask me we're getting too big for our boots."

"Good job I didn't ask you then, isn't it?" She flashed her a smile, her favourite one, showing off sugar spun teeth. It was the smile that turned men to putty in her hands, or most men anyway. The particular man she was waiting for was immune to her usual tricks.

The other woman hardly reacted, years of bitchy high-schools had clearly tamed her face. But nothing got past Miranda, and she noted the slight crinkle of her brow, the twitch of one eye, the way her hand clenched around her pen.

"Just my opinion." She said finally, before they fell into an icy silence once more. Good. She preferred it that way.

'_Leading experts are now arguing that alliance ships simply do not have the technology needed to venture so deep into uncharted space. And opening new relays is now prohibited until further notice. Is this the end of the alliance exploring? Has humanity reached its peak? This is Richard Goodmans, signing out.'_

Her lip curled, deciding the window was better entertainment after all, when the phone finally rang.

"The Illusive Man will see you now." Miss Haughty said, happy to be rid of her. About time.

"Thank you," she purred, rising to her feet and striding through into the adjoining office. Predictably, he'd spared no expense. Though you'd be hard pressed to tell at first glance; the only furniture in the large room being his office chair, which he lounged in languidly, smoking a cigarette and ignoring her.

But Miranda noticed everything, and her eyes caught the light flicker on one end of the room. Projected screens, stretching across the floor and up to the ceiling along one wall. The best technology could offer, ridiculously expensive, and probably covered with all sorts of secrets that sent her mouth drooling.

"Miss Lawson, sorry to keep you waiting." He said, lying. Smoke curled from his lips as he watched the rain. Had they been doing that together without even realising? Wasting time just because he wanted her to wait for him like an idiot.

"It was no trouble." She said, standing perfectly still despite the ache in her high heels.

"I've called you here today for an important task. One I can trust to no one but you," pride swelled in her chest, like he'd known it would. "I'm sure you've heard the news."

"Alliance crew lost in space. Including favoured Commander Shepard, in the best ship money can buy."

"Second to best. The Normandy SR-2 was completed yesterday."

"So it isn't just a copy?"

He chuckled, and she immediately regretted asking. They both knew the answer, and questions were seen as weakness to the man who knew everything.

"No. It is not a replica for their… tests. And the Alliance Crew did not disappear under the radar due to technical difficulties, as we both know."

"Aliens."

He paused, lip shrugging ever so slightly. Apparently keener on her dumb questions than her brave theories. "I believe so, yes. In any case, Commander Shepard is dead, her crew is dead; and the alliance are refusing to believe what they already know. That's where we come in." She remained silent, it was safer that way. "Miss Lawson, I've arranged for you to leave in the SR-2 tonight, along with the finest crew money can buy. You're to find Shepard remains, and that of her crew, in order for a real burial surface. Cerberus is always willing to help. The alliance believe we're doing them a favour."

"What are my real objectives, sir?"

His eyes flashed. Though it was hard to say whether it was due to excitement, or the metal retinas that had replaced their organic counterparts years ago.

"You're going to start a war."

Miranda knew everything, but this she hadn't expected, and it took all her willpower to keep her face still from tells. "Alright," she agreed, because they both knew she was going to do it. It wasn't like she had a choice. "But…" She could not help herself, and steeled her spine before asking. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" When she didn't answer straight away, he flicked his cigarette with a sigh, and the screens behind him suddenly came to life. Fuzzy images of reptilian like monsters, security tapes of Shepard with her crew, fighting, dying. A planet rotated slowly on one screen, despite all her lessons she couldn't recognise it, a fact which infuriated her. And then there was the little red beep, pinging near the corner, lines and lines of code scrolling next to it, making her heart flutter.

"A distress signal… my God. That's from the Normandy. You mean to say… they're still alive?"

"At least one of them is." He didn't seem phased, and the rain outside still had the majority of his attention. "We intercepted the signal before it could reach the Alliance. They've crashed landed on a jungle world three clicks out of relay 15. Extremely lucky… for them." He took a long drag, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. "Imagine the news if they made it back home. They'd be heroes. They'd be able to warn humanity. The dangers of this new species, the dangers of travelling too far out. Then what would happen? Hm? The alliance would start a retreat, rallying their defensives and closing off all outskirt relays… wanting to avoid the inevitable."

Her throat had turned dry. Remaining a statue was no longer an easy task, and Miranda found herself inching closer to the screens, soaking in any information she could get before he turned them off with another flick and left her in the dark.

"So you see, your job is essential. How can we reach our full potential if we're beaten before we've even begun?" He smiled cruelly. "We can't, Miss Lawson. That is why you'll find the crew. You'll kill them yourself. And you'll bring them back for the alliance to mourn over. Soldiers are simple, and thus extremely predictable. Naturally they'll want revenge, in time. And then we'll have what we want."

"A war?"

"A victory. You don't have a problem with this, do you? Its' a few small lives for the good of the many. I'm taking Cerberus in a new direction, now that we're not alone. It is essential that we put humans first."

"I understand, sir. Consider it done." She turned to leave, tasting bile in her throat. He was right, he was always right. She had to get away from him.

"Ah, Miss Lawson, one more thing."

She froze in place, five steps from her exit, and turned to face him.

"I'd like to introduce you to your first mate. She's the best technology can afford… I'm sure she'll be of use to you."

Miranda Lawson noticed everything, but she hadn't noticed the idle A.I sat still in the corner, hidden behind his distracting screens. Only now it wasn't so idle, and it was striding closer. Long legs, longer than hers. Perfect frame, curve yielding to curve with the sweetness that inspired art.

She almost scoffed, was she really getting jealous of a robot?

"This," The Illusive Man said, "is EDI."

"Hello, I am the Normandy's Artificial intelligence." It was hard to say just how intelligent EDI was, but Miranda was sure she'd never seen anything like it before. "I will be happy to assist you in the coming events."

EDI smiled, joints whizzing into a perfect expression. The kind of smile that would turn men to putty. Miranda wanted to cut her open and look inside her; she wanted to figure out how she worked; she wanted to know if EDI really was there to help, or if she was simply The Illusive Man's way of spying on her.

What was she thinking? Of course EDI was his way of spying on her.

"A pleasure to meet you, EDI," Miranda lied. The robot wasn't the only one who'd been made to be perfect. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Shepard felt braver now that she knew everyone's names. She felt stronger now that she had some food in her belly. And more confident now that she could borrow Liara's clothes, and was given a bucket of water to wash with every morning.

Soon she'd be ready to fight.

Though she wasn't stupid. Shepard knew her life was balancing on an extremely thin piece of string, and with her life fell Garrus's and Liara's. Maybe it was her persistent need to always look after others, but they were the only ones she'd talk to, and as a result - for now - they were untouchable. No matter how many glares Saren shot their way.

And didn't they know it. The two had been turning to her for more advice every day. Looking to her for leadership even though she was powerless. Despite being used to it, the pressure was unnerving. They were scared. She was scared. Shepard didn't want to die.

"So what happens then?"

"Hm?" She looked up from her seat. It was funny how the turian's facial features had become so easy to read. Sometimes Garrus even looked like he was smiling, until grim depression took over once more. "Oh. They take a helicopter off the Island, err, that's like an old fashioned space ship. And then no one visits Jussaric Park until the next movie."

"Huh. And these dinosaurs look like me?"

"Sort of."

"And they're eating all the humans?"

"No. Some are just eating grass."

"Sounds like a stupid vid."

"Jurassic Park is a classic. It's older than you… I think. Do you turians age like Liara?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "I wish. No, we age like humans. No endless cycles for us."

"Thats too bad." She managed a small smile, but the teasing really wasn't in her. They were still stuck in her tiny excuse for a cell. Only now Shepard supposed she should be grateful, Garrus had stopped strapping her to the bed. Still, the small confines were beginning to grate on her. She only ever left to be questioned by Saren and Captain Fidus. And that wasn't exactly a task she looked forward to.

"Can I ask you a question, Shepard?"

"Shoot." She winced, holding a hand up. "Bad phrase. What do you want to ask?"

"Why do you sleep for so long?"

"Huh? I've been getting six hours sleep a night since I got on here. Why, how long do Turians sleep for?"

"No longer than four hours a night."

She watched him for a moment, glaring suspiciously. "Is that why you kept shaking me awake?!" Realisation dawned on her like heat, and, despite her dire situation, Shepard began to laugh. "You were making sure I was still alive? Christ, I was sure it was an interrogation technique. Not letting me sleep at all. I was ready to hit you."

He laughed with her, shaking his head. "You hit me a good few times anyway. Remember the air duct incident?"

Her failed escape attempt wasn't quite so amusing, but Shepard gave Garrus a teasing roll of her eyes anyway. If she hadn't come to trust the turian, they'd sure as hell found some odd grounds of mutual respect, and spending time with him was a holiday compared to Ira's shifts.

As if on cue, the doors slid open with a beep. Shepard had been hoping for Liara with her breakfast, instead she locked eyes with the turian in question.

Oh, fantastic.

"They're ready for you now. Get up."

"I can take her, Ira."

She ignored Garrus, not even glancing in his direction. Shepard pretended the obvious tension wasn't uncomfortable, and stood up as Ira shackled her hands together.

"It's a little tight," she said.

"Move." Ira pushed her forward and out of the room, ignoring her too, just like she'd expected. Say one thing for Ira, say she was predictable.

"When do I get to see my crew member?" She asked the same question every day, to just about anyone who would listen to her. Garrus and Liara had the decency to look guilty and embarrassed over the whole thing, but they still said no, just like the others.

"You don't."

"Who is it? James? Jack? It's not Doctor Chakwas is it?"

"Ask me one more question and you're talking to the Captain with a bloody nose."

She kept her mouth shut, knowing from experience that Ira meant it. Instead Shepard took the precious moments out of her cell to remember the route. Despite their size, turians seemed to favour narrow corridors that lead towards the bridge. Stairs were non-existent, and she tried to take note whenever it felt like they were slopping upwards. She was soon lost despite her concentrating, but slowly getting better, and the blank white walls no longer seemed so alien.

Ira led her to the Captains office near the front of the ship – she assumed – where the man himself was sat waiting. Saren had also made an appearance, and lurked behind the Captain's chair with those eerily bright eyes. Shepard was left standing, but truth be told she appreciated the small advantage in height, and squared her shoulders in grim anticipation.

"Shepard," Saren took charge, like usual. Garrus had tried to explain his spectre status to her, but it seemed a foolish principle to her. Too much power for one person to have. Too much responsibility like that could send you over the edge, in her humble opinion, and she was almost positive he was a fitting example. "Are you willing to cooperate this morning?"

"Absolutely. Just as soon as I've seen my crew member alive, and unharmed."

His mandibles set, she was getting quite use to that expression. It usually meant 'no.'

"You know that is impossible. And you are not in the best place to be making demands. Maybe if I pulled out that scraggily mane of yours –"

"Calm down, Saren. Threats get us nowhere, as you well know." Ah, the Captain was playing good cop today. Liara had guessed right yet again. She smiled at the poor act and tasted bile on the back of her tongue; threats had been getting them everywhere. "What if we invited Garrus to join us, Shepard? Would you answer his questions?"

Her lips puckered. So far, she'd been refusing to divulge any information unless it was to Garrus, under the pretence that this kept him safe from Saren's wraith. Why though? She hadn't figured out what was possessing her to help him. With Liara it made more sense, but not her captor. Did she owe him this? Quite frankly, he was the reason she was in this mess.

"Very well." Shepard said anyway. She'd contemplate her motives later. Best to just trust her gut in these sort of situations, and her gut wanted to help the alien that had nearly killed her twice.

Ira fetched Garrus without a word of complaint, and then Shepard stood complacent as the turian repeated every question his superiors demanded to know. _'How many vessels do your people own?' 'Why were humans opening closed relays?' 'Were they attempting to help the rachni?' _

Shepard answered honestly for the most part. The trick to lying was mingling it in with the truth, and she only exaggerated the alliances forces, enjoying the turian's shock as she insisted an army would be waiting for them if they were to invade. In truth Earth had little in the way of war ships. Why would they need them? They'd been alone in the galaxy up until now. Though she assumed the Alliance was rectifying this problem as they spoke. Or at least she hoped.

Eventually, Garrus was sent back to his station, and she tried to ignore the fluttering fear in her stomach as he left.

Ira was on her as soon as the door were closed, and slammed Shepard's forehead onto the edge of the desk.

"No blood, Ira." Fidus murmured, and the two men watched as Ira treated her like a plaything. The beatings were getting worse day. Ira kicked and punched old bruises raw again, not giving anything a chance to heal. One swift kick to her stomach, and Shepard fell to her knees and resisted the urge to roll into a ball. Ira curled her hair around one talon and pulled, exposing her neck. A dozen old injuries screamed in protest at the abuse, but Shepard concentrated on her facial expression. Stubborn rage. Captain Anderson's firm tone rang dully in the back of her head. _'We will not falter.' _

"Every day you do this. Why? I've answered all your questions." She said, one tooth wobbling against her bloody lip. Her voice sounded croakier than she intended, but clearing her throat only brought on more pain.

Ira paused with one fist ready and looked to her superiors for answers. Fidus was too busy watching, eyes glazed over. Saren, however, was happy to explain.

"Think of it as a formality, Shepard. We simply do not believe you're telling us the truth –"

"I've told you everything."

"And so Ira will continue your interrogations every day until we're satisfied with your answers."

"Not much of a plan." She said, despite the tightening hand on her hair. The flicker of irritation that crossed Saren's face was worth it, and Shepard grinned a bloody smile as Ira pressed her face to the ground.

* * *

Though the beatings weren't fun, Shepard was still loathed to be heading back towards her cell. Cabin fever was a suffocating feeling, and her feet dragged as they marched down the sloping corridors. The rest of the day would be spent in that damn cupboard. Doing sit ups on the floor, putting up with Liara's persistent questions, and listening as Garrus tried to explain how his species weren't all heartless killers.

Until Ira turned her left instead of right, and Shepard stiffened.

"Where are we going?"

"You're quick to notice." She huffed, almost sounding amused. "Memorized the route already?"

"More or less. Why are we heading further down?"

"Captain has a treat for you." It was all the explanation she seemed willing to divulge, and she left Shepard to wallow in silence. Had they deemed her useless already? It seemed the most likely conclusion. Ira had to be leading her away where she could kill her privately. Maybe a room with a drain.

Part of her wanted to give in and let it happen. But a larger part was stubborn enough to fight back. Genetic disadvantages and terrible odds put aside, Shepard believed just a small part of her could still get out of this, and made a mental note to punch with her left hand if it came to a fight. Ira had broken less fingers on her left hand.

They past a few crew members, who glared as the pair wandered past. She saw a mix of shock and hatred in their eyes. After all, she was the enemy, and not for the first time, Shepard was thankful for Garrus's kinder attitude. Everyone else seemed to be following Ira's lead.

"Here." They paused outside the medbay, and she unloaded her pistol. Funny place to kill her. Maybe their doctor wanted to experiment once she was dead. "Don't try anything funny. Just get to the end of the room and don't look at anyone. Got it?"

"Got it." She agreed, because it wasn't worth the fight.

"Hm." Ira grunted and tapped a button on her omni-tool, opening the door. Medical smell washed over them immediately, and despite their arrangement Shepard let her eyes wander to the only occupant of the room. A scrawny turian – if you could call them scrawny – slept in one bed. An excessive amount of bandages held his face together, and she realised with a swell of pride that it was her fault he was in such a bad state.

Encouraged by the gun prodding her back, she marched past with Ira looming close behind, then waited patiently as the other woman started typing in a code; the second door apparently much harder to get into than the first.

"You can thank me later." Ira said whilst she worked.

The idea was laughable. "For what?" She sneered, just as the doors slid open, and the source of the chemical smell became apparent.

Her eyes widened, breathe leaving her chest in one heartbroken sigh. Shepard felt hot shame heat up her face, guilty that she'd felt sorry for herself only moments ago; not now that she'd finally been shown some answers.

Kaiden was unconscious in his hospital bed, bloody bandages covered him better than his blanket, and what little skin left exposed was a dark purple. Strange medical tubes disappeared down his mouth, into his hands, clamped to his fingers; all connected to the various machines that were keeping him barely alive.

She stepped closer to his side, and Ira allowed it. Though she couldn't do much with her hands in chains, and Shepard was afraid to touch him in any case. He looked ready to break in any second, like sugar glass. Balancing precariously in limbo between life and death.

"Kaiden… what? Ho – why did you bring me here?" Her voice wobbled, and tears started to sting her eyes, staring down at his swollen face. Was he breathing? She couldn't even tell. What was most surprising was Ira's helpfulness to reunite her with her last remaining crew member. Out of everyone who could sneak Shepard to Kaiden's room, Ira had seemed the least likely.

"This is more of a pit stop really. The real treats down in the ring."

"Wha - ?" Her head slammed forward as Ira punched her without warning. No. Too hard. She must have used the butt of her gun. Wetness seeped underneath her collar, and she realised dimly that she'd gotten blood over Liara's favorite vest. Shepard groaned, but it would have been smarter to stay silent, as Ira only hit her again; and now her knees were giving out, and Kaiden's dying face helped her naught as Shepard's world finally turned black.

A strange place to kill her, she thought, before Ira hit her again.


	9. Chapter 9

Dark. Cold. Shepard curled her legs to her chest in a poor attempt to warm up. She wanted to go back to sleep; her forehead creased in concentration, attempting to continue the dream she'd just been having. In the woods, by her old house. Garrus had been walking through the thicket, pace too fast. Her legs felt like they were moving through putty as she tried to keep up. Calling didn't help, he couldn't hear her over the bird calls, and anguish chilled her muscles, eventually brought to a standstill, trapped and lost.

"Garrus.." she mumbled under her breath, wanting to shout it. Except Garrus had never been to Earth, she'd never shown him the trees, and the birds were screaming, chanting, certainly not singing.

She pried her eyes open and pain woke with her like a slumbering partner. A roaring ache swelled at the back of her head, shooting down her spine with each breath. Every muscle begged her to keep still, but soldier's instinct made it clear that the luxury was not an option, and she pushed herself up. Sitting consequently made her dizzy, and the sensation was so sickening she wanted nothing more than to lie back down and wait for the feeling to subside. But she couldn't. She wasn't alone.

Half the crew appeared to have been waiting for her to wake up, circled around and crying out in anger? No, excitement. Fear settled in deep, and Shepard struggled to breath. Calm. Calm. She had to think this through. What had she been doing? Ira had taken her to see Kaiden, Ira had hit her, she'd hit her hard.

Through the swell of unfamiliar faces she caught the evil little glint of her guard, holding an empty bucket and smirking. Shepard realised then that her hair and face were wet, no doubt how they'd managed to cease her slumbering.

"Whats - "

"Get up."

Two different pairs of talons were reaching out from the crowd, grabbing her arms and pushing her unceremoniously to her feet. This time Shepard really did lose control of her stomach, and the crew laughed as one while she vomited down her legs, dry heaving for a while after.

"Look, it's beaten already."

"Whos taking bets?!"

"Give her one from me, Ira!"

"I've got to film this. The extranet is going to go nuts…"

"Get on with it already!"

They were in a ring, a pit. Her eyes darted wildly over the dank little room. A metal railing was all that separated her and Ira from the others, circling sandy ground. Ira tossed the bucket to the side and cracked her neck, rolling her shoulder blades, flexing her bandaged fists, warming up. A fight then. Garrus had tried to explain that turians often had wrestling matches on their ships, a way to relieve stress.

This felt more like revenge.

"Ira." Reasoning with her was her only option. Maybe if she were at her best, maybe if they hadn't been beating her for a week, maybe then Shepard would had stood a chance. But that just wasn't the way of things, and it was clear to everyone that her chances of survival were slim. "Ira, wait. You're not thinking this through. This isn't a good idea."

That earnt another ripple of laughter, and sharp hands pushed her further into the centre of the circle, jabbing and prodding should she venture too close to the edge. Claustrophobia began to niggle its way into her head. It was damn hot, stifling, and the air made it hard to breath. She glanced up to the rafters above, guessing that they were under the engines if the noise was anything to go by.

Ira regarded her imperturbably. Shepard had never noticed how tall she was, wearing nothing but tight trousers that covered her from thigh to waist. Skin providing a natural armour, where all she had in comparison was soft flesh, already bruised and battered.

"You look ready to shit yourself, Shepard. Shoulda known, all you humans are cowardly." She cooed, clearly enjoying the attention. The cheering crowd only encouraged her, and Ira's mandibles fluttered with a happy purr, relishing in her five minutes of fame while Shepard seethed across from her. There was no shame in being afraid, you needed fear in order to be brave.

The pair began to circle each other, and god damn it, but Shepard couldn't help but raise her fists, happy - at the very least - that her hands weren't visibly shaking.

"What will the spectre say when he finds out you've killed his hostage?" She said, hopeful there was a bit of sense in Ira that was listening.

"That's what the spare is for."

"Kaiden's hardly awake for an interrogation."

"Sleeping men can't fight either." Ira lashed out with three quick jabs. Right, left, left. She stumbled out of range just in time, but was immediately pushed forward once more by the crowd at her back. There would be no escaping.

"Ira, just think for a second -"

"Shut up and fight!" Two more jabs, this time she felt the air rush by her cheek. The crowd booed and hissed as Shepard successfully dodged once again; spitting at her, hot liquid splattering onto her cheek. She ignored them.

"Everyone will know it was you. Half the crew will witness it. Saren will be furious, he'll kill you."

Ira merely cackled, stepping forward as Shepard struggled to retreat, finding there was little enough space to put between them. "This was his idea, you idiot! You've disrespected him long enough. He's going to say the asari did it, one of her experiments gone wrong. Then your body will be shipped to the citadel and cracked open to see whats inside."

Well, that did it then. Really, she had nothing to lose. And so Shepard charged with a guttural cry, rugby tackling Ira to the floor. Deciding surprise was her best tactic if she couldn't use strength or diplomacy.

Ira certainly hadn't been expected the tackle, and grunted as her head spikes sunk into the sand. The crowd exploded with cries as the pair grappled on the floor, stamping their feet on the floor in sync. The drumming stomps only encouraged her blood lust, and Shepard landed a solid punch to her cheek. Adrenaline providing a temporary strength. Ira snarled, beginning to twist one arm, and then they were rolling. Struggling to gain leverage. Her arm was still being forced against her joint, so close to breaking that the bone started to crack.

"Uaargh!" Shepard kicked her in the waist frantically, and rolled away as soon as Ira's grip loosened. The turian cried out, clutching the abused skin.

The pair got back onto their feet, finding it a struggle. No longer standing so straight, no longer looking so eager, and yet beginning to circle the other once more, fists raised.

"What happens if I win?" Shepard asked, needing longer to catch her breath.

"You don't win." Ira spat.

"Okay. But what happens if I do?"

"Ha! If you win Shepard, I'll fly you back to your miserable planet myself."

They both laughed at the thought, though Shepard's didn't feel much mirth. She was too busy trying to think of a new strategy. If Ira had any disadvantage it was her predictability. It was easy to guess a fighter's next move when they couldn't control their temper, and Shepard had never met anyone angrier than Ira.

Even then she was quickly losing patience with their two and fro, and Ira lashed out with another punch. Shepard ducked before she hit her mark. Ira snarled, and jabbed again. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. She kept her own movement to a minimum, leaning side to side and stepping back only when necessary to avoid all of her attacks. Though going on the defensive only maddened their audience, and the roars grew deafening as they watched Ira slowly run out of energy, panting now as she followed Shepard around the ring, missing every mark.

"Hit me already!" She feigned towards her stomach then aimed for her head, Shepard blocked the blow by locking her arms in front of her face before retreating. She was smaller, faster, and gradually feeling more confident about her odds.

"When you fly me back home, Ira, will it be in your own ship? Or -" jab, swing, Ira stumbled before her next attack, Shepard merely leaned back to avoid it. "Or will I just sit on your back and kick?"

"UGH!" She swung again, but rage caused her to aim too far, and put all her weight on her front leg. Shepard saw the opening and took it without mercy, stepping to the side before closing in. She grabbed Ira's stretched arm and turned, pressing the limb over her shoulder and using the turian's weight against her.

Ira was flung forward and landed on her back, eyes wide, as if she wasn't quite sure how it had all happened. Shepard wasted no time, training kicking in. She still had a hold on her arm, and now locked it against her legs. Ira let out a feeble no as Shepard ignored her, giving the wrist one swift twist. She grinned at the loud cracking noise that left the crowd wincing in sympathy for their comrade.

Arm broken, Ira was done. Yet she mounted her anyway, knees digging into her waist, smashing her fist against her face before anyone could intervene.

One, two, three respectable punches; and then Shepard was being dragged off and tossed away. Everyone had clearly been betting against her, as not a single soul was happy with the human's unexpected victory. She'd barely had chance to cover her head behind her hands before they were kicking her, relentlessly. The turians wrestled amongst themselves for a chance to stamp on her, while Ira was being dragged to her feet, having a tantrum whilst she clutched onto her twisted arm.

So this was how she'd go. At least Ira wouldn't get the satisfaction of killing her herself. That was something.

"Stop!" A voice demanded amongst all the chaos. Garrus? She didn't even know anymore. One foot had caught the bump on her head, and now the ringing in her ears was demanding her full attention, and the pain dragged her into a deep slumber yet again.

* * *

This time when she woke there were no dreams, and the pain did not wake with her, but had been there all along. Throbbing each inch of her body. Shepard ached in places she hadn't even thought she could. The back of one knee in particular stung, and she tried to concentrate on a duller pain that had to be somewhere else. Her toes weren't quite so sore, though her face felt like it was on fire.

"Ah!" Someone pressed a cold compress to her eye and she pried the other one open into a slit. Shepard never thought she'd be grateful to be back in her prison cell again, but she was, and might have cried out in joy had her tongue not felt so heavy.

"Careful. Two black eyes. Three broken ribs. Several fractures. Contender faring better, despite losing match." A voice she didn't recognize, snapping out quick facts by her blind side.

"'Hoo argth youf?" She managed, not attempting to sit up in bed, but feeling that she was strapped against it in any case. There was something ironic in that, she was sure.

"Curious. You speak Salarian. No. Impossible. Language chip. Installed by Dr T'Soni. Adjustments proved successful. Knew it would work. Though quicker than hypothesised. Interesting."

The lack of emotion oddly irritated her, and Shepard tried to cast her eye around the room, seeing nothing but a various smears.

"Garruff?!" Her tone came out more panicked than she'd intended, swollen tongue an' all.

"I'm here, Shepard." She felt his callused hand lightly rest on her own, and she was oddly grateful for the contact. No one had been this gentle with her in weeks.

"Is she going to be alright, Professor?" Liara murmured by her left.

"Yes. Presumably. Too many variables to announce as fact. Internal bleeding tricky. New species. Remarkable defence mechanism. White blood cells. Shame, human bones do not grow back quickly."

"I cannot believe Ira would stoop this low," Garrus said. His hand tightened on her own for a few seconds, struggling to quell his rage "she hasn't been reprimanded. Fidus just gave her cleaning duty for a month. Strictest fleet in the galaxy my ass."

"Fidus? Oh. Captain. Of course. No. Not really in charge. Spectre pulls the strings."

"Sar – Sarrrfh." She groaned, frustrated. Wanting to warn them, wanting to be a part of the no doubt important conversation.

"Shh." Liara was stroking her hair, but that did nothing but worsen her headache. "The drugs will start working soon, Shepard. It will ease the pain."

"Saaarrrpfff!" She tried again, Professor Solus somehow understanding her nonsense.

"Saren. Yes. Yes! His idea. Of course! Wants the humans dead. History suggests as such. Killed Taylor. Denied Kaiden proper treatment. Shepard deemed useless. Will try again no doubt. Motives unclear. Racial rage? No. Killing provides no tactical advantage. Should want to get the most information out of humans at least. Denial then? Maybe. Less information equals slimmer chance for peaceful conclusion. Saren wants war. Shepard key to ending – "

"Wait, slow down, Mordin. Let the rest of us catch up." Garrus frowned across at him, though he'd understood perfectly. He found himself in denial himself. "Why would Saren do that? He gave the order to bring hostages in the first place."

Shepard could feel the pain killers starting to work, and moaned weakly, anxious she was about to swallow her tongue. Maybe Liara was still paying attention to her. She'd probably help. The other two, however, were completely distracted by their wild accusations, and their incessant voices were starting to grate on her nerves.

"No. Spectre answers to council. Council wanted hostages. Not Saren."

They were making her head swim. Councils? Keys? Couldn't they have this conversation outside and let her sleep? She groaned again, Garrus squeezed her fingers in response. That wasn't the reaction she'd wanted, and she tried to work her tongue around the words 'shut' and 'up.'

Mordin continued, growing excited as he thought aloud. "Saren wants war. Council peace. Shepard could end it. Or any human really. Shepard merely most likely. Alive, language chip, will be able to talk once swelling goes down."

"I meant, about him trying to kill her?" Garrus's words grated out in an impatient snap, and Shepard felt oddly satisfied. At least she wasn't the only one feeling frustrated.

"Ah yes. Needs it to be accident. Could simply say Shepard succumbed to her injuries. Blame Ira. Council would not argue. Solid plan, all things considered. Hmmm. Impressed he thought of it himself."

"Wait, no," Liara murmured. Shepard could just imagine her fidgeting with her hands, worrying despite hardly knowing her. "We can't let that happen. He'd kill us all. What are we going to do?"

"That's easy." Mordin announced, apparently having all the answers. "We escape. Tonight."

They all shared a glance, excluding poor Shepard. Garrus's mouth turned dry, noting how confident Mordin seemed over the entire thing. He wished he could share his determination. Casually declaring they not only betray the turian fleet, but his entire race. He looked to Liara, who was chewing on her lip, but watching Shepard with that awe inspired loyalty that told him she was on board with the idea. He turned his attention to Shepard instead, laid bruised and bloody once more, unable to give much of an expression underneath her swollen features. But it didn't take a mind reader to know she'd be more than happy with an escape plan. No doubt she'd been planning to try a second attempt this entire time.

He turned away. Wondering how to tell them, that he had no choice but to file a report.


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm telling you, there's something out there." Joker pulled at his collar, sweating under the stifling heat. It seemed whenever they fixed one problem, two more appeared. As a result, a week had passed and the Normandy was no closer to flying. Gabby was starting to lose faith in her abilities, Ashley was climbing the walls with impatience, and Joker found himself struggling to keep the fighting to a minimum. His nonchalant attitude was tougher to keep up each day, and an overwhelming surge of hopelessness was consuming them all.

"There's nothing out there but mosquitoes. I'm not checking again. Even my bites have bites." James said, almost snapping at him, but not quite. It was still early after all. The pair were stood by the galaxy map. James held open the vent, Joker held the tool kit, and Kevin worked beneath them, grumbling under his breath about the unreliability of fans.

"You wouldn't have to check if we could get the radar to work." He muttered, frustrated.

"Not enough power and you know it. It was either the radar or the distress signal. Which one would you rather have?"

He huffed. The alliance should have gotten the distress signal by now, yet their rescuers had failed to make an appearance. It left the ragged crew at a loss of what to do. Shepard, no doubt, would have had a plan. If she'd been here to lead they'd be off planet by now. Maybe with a few alien hostages for an extra bonus, making their way back to Earth to warn the others and become heroes.

But Shepard wasn't here. The rescue mission hadn't even gotten underway, and no one had to say the words they were all thinking.

Shepard was dead.

He gritted his teeth. _No, don't think like that. Not until you know for sure_.

"My legs ache." He said, bored, and with nothing to do but irritate the marine who could easily snap him like a twig.

"Hm."

"And I'm hungry."

"Joker."

"Spanner!" Kevin demanded below them, clearly unhappy with his helpers for the day and their incessant need to complain.

Joker rummaged in the tool box, found the spanner in question, and then tossed it down the hole without much thought.

"OW!"

"Sorry!" He said, smirking. "How do you think the girls are faring?"

"They ain't. Ashley and Jack are refusing to work together." James admitted. The pair had butted heads for the final time two nights ago, fighting over the breakfast table while the others tried to pry them off each other. "I think Ashley's with Gabby in the engine room. Jack was keeping the doc company."

"Lucky Chakwas." He drawled.

The pilot and the solider sniggered, whilst their engineer continued to mutter underneath the floor, pulling at wires.

"Fecking piece of clap trap... eejit ship, fecking fecker, slot in…" there was a flicker, a spark from below, and then the galaxy map hummed to life. Joker and James gave out an obligated cheer, and Kevin looked rather pleased with himself as he clambered back on deck, face speckled with oil and wiping his hands on a rag.

"Nice work, señor! I knew you could do it." James said, letting go of the vent and rising to his full height.

"Now we can finally figure out which sector we're in." Joker beamed, limping up to the stand that was usually Shepard's place. _No. No. Don't think about it._ He typed on the control panel with nimble fingers, the others waited for answers with baited breath.

A flicker, and then not only did the galaxy map shut down in front of them, but the entire ship turned dark. Lights went out with a groan from the Normandy, and an eerie silence filled the room.

"Oh no..."

"Joker! What did you do?! I had just fixed it! _Just_ fixed it!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You must have pressed something!"

He struggled to climb back down in the darkness, and could hear a clatter as Kevin tripped over the tool box, cursing loudly.

Another rattle silenced them all, and goose bumps prickled his skin while fear churned his gut. Joker was no fighter. "That came from outside." He whispered, wondering where James was stood in the darkness, stepping closer to where he assumed.

They heard a scrabbling above them, then the unmistakable creak of hinges being loosened. Anger replaced his fear, and Joker gasped as he realised whatever it was, it was taking pieces of the Normandy with it. "They're messing with my – _our _ship! James, do something!"

"I can't see shit, what do you want me to do?"

The lights flickered back to life just as Ashley made it to the top of the stairs, bursting into the bridge panting. They blinked at each other for a few seconds, eyes adjusting, before she turned into her solider mode once again. All business. "Whats going on? Why'd the lights go out?"

"I dunno." Joker answered honestly, staring at the ceiling. "But whoever's out there... they fixed it."

The soldiers shared a stony glance, and with a little nod from Ashley they both unloaded their rifles, heading as a pair towards the airlock without a word needed between them.

"Wait! Hold on!" Joker tugged on her arm, ignoring the way she snatched it back. Being stranded on an alien planet was a wonderful way to lose all your patience. "Let's see what they do next."

"Are you mad?"

"Maybe. But they _are_ fixing everything." As if to prove his point, the galaxy map turned on once again with a purr, and everyone froze as the clattering above continued, getting louder.

"Robots..." Joker whispered, transfixed. The others rolled their eyes.

"What is it with you and robots?"

"SHH!"

_Clatter, rattle, bang_. And then the air conditioning was rumbling to life.

"Amazing." Joker said. They'd all given up on the air conditioning, it was a luxury after all, and had been last on the list of things to work on. Yet now it had been fixed in a matter of minutes… seconds!

"That's impossible." Kevin said, hand clenching tight around his spanner. "The air conditionings controlled by this little box above the cockpit. You can't reach it from the top of the ship."

Ashley licked her chapped lips and edged towards the air lock, still staring at the ceiling. "I don't think they're outside anymore." She murmured, slotting a heat sink into her gun.

"The air vents then?" James was following her lead, whispering, gun raised.

Joker realised their intentions just a second too late. "Hold on!"

The two opened fire as another clatter announced their intruder, bullets whizzing through metal ceiling with a hiss. Joker and Kevin could only look on in horror, whilst the marines broke everything they'd been trying so hard to salvage. Weeks of work went down the drain as a cluster of wires broke apart from the ceiling. _There goes the distress signal_. Joker whined, hand half raised as if to stop them, but unable to do so. All the while their mystery electrician darted through the air ducts, directing their aim to more important circuits as it avoided impeding death.

"Stop it!" Kevin shouted, and in a fit of desperation he threw his spanner at James, hitting him square in the shoulder and knocking him off balance with a grunt.

Ashley was a force of nature though, completely unstoppable. And with a few well aimed bullets she was bringing one whole section of the tunnelling down with a crash of dust and debris, along with their intruder.

They fell to the ground with a wail, landing on their back where the galaxy map was supposed to illuminate. The marines were immediately closing in, guns raised and ready.

"Don't move!" Ashley commanded. Joker could only stare. It really was a robot! Purple mask covering the creature's head, hiding its features and… helping it to breath? _Not a robot then._ His eyes trailed down, widening. They were covered head to foot in some sort of suit, decorated here and there with purple embroidery, only to be marred by expensive looking equipment that seemed to be keeping it alive, or protected, he wasn't sure. Just when he thought it looked remarkably human, he noticed that the legs resembled that of dog's, hands only possessed two fingers and a thumb, and it's eyes glowed wide behind the mask; impossible for him to distinguish properly, yet clearly afraid.

They stuttered in some inconceivable language, full of rolled syllables and strange clicks. The voice sounded feminine at the very least, and so Joker assumed whatever it was it was female. She carried no weapon, and instead clutched some sort of tool in her waving hand, ironically resembling Kevin's spanner.

"So she _was_ fixing the ship." He thought aloud, while James and Ashley continued to scare her senseless, shouting orders and questions yet giving her no time to answer. He immediately felt sympathetic. Though Joker would befriend anything if it could improve The Normandy. "Hey, guys, put your guns down would ya? Maybe if we're nice it will fix more of our stuff."

"The question is _why _was it fixing our stuff?" Ashley said.

"Maybe that's what it does… like a programing –"

"**It's not a robot!"** All three of them barked, and the alien watched the exchanged with panted breaths, shaking.

"Alright, alright. Just lower your guns." To his amazement, they obeyed, and watched with suspicious glares as Joker hobbled closer. He slowly picked up the spanner Kevin had previously thrown, then held it towards her. She didn't accept it, and instead glared, leaning as far back as possible, as if merely touching him would kill her. "So, you like fixing stuff right? You're really good at it. If you want we'll show you the engine – "

"Theres no way – "

"It's huge! You'll like it a lot." The alien stared, and Joker struggled with the language barrier. "Engine? Ship's engine? We can't get it to work. I bet you could though. I bet it would take you five minutes, and we could be off saving Shepard by supper time." His words had the desired effect, and while the alien shuffled further away, the others gave each other a little glance. "Enggggiiiine? It's this big thing… It kinda sounds like… kinda like…." He tried to intimidate the sound the Normandy made when it was starting up, rattling his hands in time with the beat. "Whooomf, whoomf, whoooomf, whooomf."

"Joker, honestly, that's not going to work." Ashley was silenced as the alien started to laugh, a nervous chuckle lighting up the mouth piece of her mask. She nodded, then waved her arms as if they were the ship's wings, supplying her own engine sounds.

"_Tktuh, tktuh, tktuh, tktuh?"_

"Yeah! That's totally what it sounds like!" He laughed, hope trickling its way back into his heart. "Guys, lets show her the engine."

"Fine." Ahsley cocked her gun and cracked her neck. "But she makes one wrong move, I'm blowing that pretty helmet off."

He nodded. "That seems fair."


	11. Chapter 11

"I'll come back in an hour." Rittle said. Directing his gaze to Mordin. "Captain wants her in for questioning at 20 00, so no weird experiments, Doc."

"Of course. Will refrain from touching." Solus remained hunched over his papers in the far corner, tapping a vial of blood Shepard suspected was her own. She frowned, unable to remember him taking any. "Wouldn't want to tamper with the Captain's hard work."

If the turian noticed his sarcasm – and from what she'd learnt from turians, she guessed not – he didn't react to it, instead bobbing his head. "Very good." Rittle turned and left them in her cell. The group waited until his footsteps turned around the corner before speaking again.

"So how am I meant to distract the guards?" Liara started, wringing her hands as Solus flipped his papers over and laid them out on her cot. Their escape plan pencilled down in various points and diagrams, unable to make sense unless Mordin laid the papers down just so.

"Specifics unimportant. As long as guards do not notice Shepard in vent."

"I'd prefer some specifics in any case." She trilled, nose scrunching. "It almost sounds like you don't know how, Dr Mordin."

"Preposterous accusation. Many ways to distracts guards. Turian mating call, one example."

"I am not - !"

"Enough," Shepard said. The headache prowling behind her eyes was affecting any patience she might have held, and their bickering was only a time waster. It had been three days since they'd decided to smuggle her out. Three days of meticulous planning, and worrying, and beatings. She was practically climbing the walls. It had been so long since she'd breathed in fresh air, seen a window, and talked to another human being. "Just tell them something, anything. What we really need to discuss is Ga-" The doors swooshed open, and the object of her scrutiny appeared before them.

Garrus looked worn and angry. Shoulders tense, mandibles lowered. She could feel her own temper rising. His unwillingness to plan spoke volumes, and the fragile trust they'd worked so hard on was crumbling away piece by piece. Though she could see Garrus was at war with himself, and so she tried – oh so hard – to be patient.

"I got what you asked," he said. Avoiding her glare and passing the items to Mordin. "A screwdriver, an omni-tool, and one left shoe. I'm not even going to ask what they're for."

"Excellent! Plan has 99.9% of failure without left shoe." Solus chimed, taking the items from him.

"Did you get my pistol?" She asked.

Garrus stiffened, staring at the papers on her lap. "No."

"Why not?" She punctured each word out through her teeth, which were clenched so tight she could squeeze a diamond through them.

"You'd only need a pistol if you wanted to shoot someone. I'm still part of the crew. I'm not going to be the reason half of them are dead."

"You're the reason more than half of my crew are dead."

They locked eye contact and something hot flared between them, rage and frustration and maybe just a little bit of disappointment that they weren't fully on the same team. She tried to quell that down, focusing more on the rage.

"Garrus is right. Shouldn't need a weapon. Not if everything goes to plan, which is likely. Though too many variables to be certain." Solus didn't seem to notice the silent war raging between the pair, and instead was unlacing the shoe by her right, humming under his breath. At least he was confident in their plan.

She sighed, looking down at the papers, not daring to rearrange them. "Fine. Fine. Let's not prepare for the worst case scenario, because when has that ever been useful? Worst comes to worst I'll just challenge everyone to a turian wrestle session, it's never failed me before."

Liara giggled and quickly pressed her hand to her mouth, even Mordin smiled. Garrus remained as stony as ever, prickling her temper even further.

She huffed, moving on. "Let's go through everything again. Mordin, you will be?"

"Locating second human. Kaiden. And wheeling him down to the docking bay. Will plan route to avoid unnecessary crew members. Will say I need to work on him in my own lab, on my own ship, if I do."

"Good. Liara you're?"

"Walking calmly to the Captain's quarters while you follow in the air ducts. Then distracting the guards, _somehow,_ while you drop inside."

"Right, and then I'll grant Modin's ship docking permission and sound the fire alarm once I'm done."

"By which they will have most likely discovered your missing presence," Mordin continued, nodding. "Risky. But gives all three of you enough time to meet me in the docking bay. If you're quick. If not, death is most likely outcome. Not sure how fast humans run. Maybe perform tests, once this is done."

"Hmm sure. And Garrus? You'll be?" _Stabbing us all in the back and ruining the plan._ She finished in her head.

He heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his neck. "I'll be in the engine room, sabotaging the ship and using the fire alarm as my signal to get to Mordin's ship."

Silence. There was nothing more to say, they'd been through their various roles a dozen times. It was only Shepard's military training that made her want to go through the plan a dozen times. Everyone knew what they were doing, everyone knew when, now they just had to gather their courage and do it.

Mordin reassured them again that the plan was almost perfect, so why did she feel so nervous? A thick knot in her stomach that sent her nerves tingling. Shepard had learnt the hard way to trust her gut, and her eyes darted to Garrus once more, who leaned against the wall while Liara complained she didn't even know what a turian mating call sounded like. They caught eye contact once more, and her heart began to race.

You're not going to help us are you?

No.

You won't come with us?

No.

Even in her head he did not provide the answers she wanted to hear.

* * *

Later that day, an hour before her scheduled interrogation, they got started. Mordin made short work of the air vent, prying it apart without even a clatter as Liara and Shepard watched on. Garrus had left, and would - presumably - be working on the engines that very second. Though she was doubtful.

"There you go. Will rendezvous in ten minutes." He patted her on the back, two fingered hand doing little to reassure her. "Good luck, Shepard." He left them, and Liara urged her to hurry.

Though it was the means to her escape, Shepard was not happy to find herself in the air vents again, and huffed as she climbed up. Her knees immediately ached in protest, and her body was still sore from the beatings. It smelt like damp, and was boiling hot to boot.

She followed the sounds of Liara below her, who had the good sense to hum. This not only made it easier for Shepard, but muffled the sounds of her own clanging above as they slowly made their way through the ship.

"Evening. Excuse me." The asari would mumble every now and then, the crew passing her without ceremony, completely oblivious to the prisoner following mere inches above.

Right turn. Left. The air vent slopped upwards, and she presumed the hallway did the same. Liara passed four sets of guards without trouble. But she was still in permitted quarters of the ship. The captain's room would be off limits, and Shepard could hear her clippy pace slow as they ventured further; and the pair turned hesitant as one, nerves eating away their confidence.

Shepard leaned down and wiped the sweat from her forehead. _Breathe. One, two, three._ She could do this. She was going to be okay.

"Halt." A voice barked, and she froze in the vent, trying not to breath.

"I need to pass." Liara told the guards, not a hint of fear marring her voice, despite the hesitation she'd shown during planning.

"What could you possibly need in the Captain's quarters?" A second guard teased. Shepard wished she could see them. Her leg started to cramp, and she winced, ignoring the desperate need to shift into a more comfortable position.

"I have important information… for Captain Fidus." Liara murmured, no longer sounding so sure of herself. In hindsight, they probably should have come up with something specific she could use to distract the guards. Only that wasn't her forte, and she supposed it was too late to learn a turian mating call.

"He's not here. Try the bridge."

"T-Then I need your help. It's about the prisoner." She blurted. The silence that followed spoke volumes, and a drop of sweat fell from her brow.

"Which one?"

"Which - ? The human. The one thats awake." She said.

"What about it?"

"Shes..." Liara paused to think, and that famous turian patience began to show, the guards practically snarling their words now.

"Look, Asari, come talk to us when we're off duty. Not in the mood for your games."

"Escaped!" She said, voice shrill. Shepard clenched her nails into her palm until it was wet with blood, unable to help as Liara struggled below.

"What?" At least she had now captured their full attention, and as the turians began to ask questions one on top of the other, Shepard began the maddingly slow crawl past them, and into the next room.

Slowly, slowly, slowly. The vents creaked as she shifted her cramped leg, and she froze in place. Eyes wide.

"ESCAPED HOW?!" One guard bellowed above her creaking.

Movement going oblivious to those below, she continued on until she made it to the crate. Peering through the gaps, Shepard could make out a lush bed, covered head to foot with pillows, must be a turian thing. There was a desk scattered with papers, a rather impressive fish tank - filed with swimming creatures she'd never even seen before, looking more reptilian than their Earthen cousins - and a long control panel that swept around one whole corner of the room. She craned her neck to get a better look. It was definitely where she would gain docking permission.

"I don't know, I went to give her some supper and she wasn't in her room." Liara voice was muffled, but she could hear the strangled strain as the plan unravelled.

"Shit. Come on, I bet Garrus was on duty."

Two pairs of footsteps pounded away, and Shepard took that as her cue. Wiggling so her feet were pressed against the crate, she braced herself on her arms before kicking out. The opening fell with a rattle on her third kick, and she wasted no time jumping into the captain's quarters.

From this side, the door wasn't locked. And using the omni-tool like Garrus had shown her, Shepard waved her arm and let Liara in.

"_I'm_ the distraction?" She hissed as soon as the guilty blue face was stood in front of her, wringing her hands and wandering to the control panel.

"I panicked! They weren't buying anything until I mentioned you."

She wanted to shout, to argue. To berate Liara. But she knew deep down that the asari wasn't a solider, and if Shepard was good at anything, it was adapting under pressure.

"No matter," she said. Running a ragged hand through her hair, she followed her and watched as she began pressing buttons. "Someone would have noticed eventually. This just means we have less time. I'll finish getting docking permission, you go deal with the engines."

"I thought Garrus was doing that?"

"He isn't."

Liara gave her a soft look, almost as if she felt sorry for her, before speaking again. "Okay. You just have to find the right file and press this button, see?" She pointed, Shepard nodded grimly. "If theres a password… well… there'll be a clue somewhere… surely. Or you can try hacking in with your omni-tool."

"I've got it. Just hurry. The crew could sound the alarm at any moment. Just ignore the signal now and try to be as fast as you can."

"But I was meant to show you how to get to the docking bay."

"I'll make my own way. Just go!"

Liara looked pained, and she wondered if they'd ever see each other again. "Be careful, Shepard." She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her tight. Shepard froze for a few moments before hugging Liara back. How long since she'd been embraced by someone? She smelt of soap and was soft to the touch. She almost smelt human. Shepard ignored the catch in her throat, nodding her head and staring at the control panel as Liara raced down the corridor and around the corner.

She got to work, wishing she' had paid closer attention when the others were explaining their omni-tools. Shepard waved her hands over the Captain's control panel precariously, screens appearing in mid-air before her. Hacking onto the main frame proved surprisingly easy, but locating the file used for docking permission became a real problem. Time ticked on, and Shepard got no closer to her goal; all the while knowing the others could have completed this task in seconds. She didn't enjoy feeling like a liability, and grew increasingly angry until she was practically jabbing buttons with her omni-tool. Instead of what she wanted, she found security cameras, the captain's log, and various reports from different ships.

'Log 3246: Subject 847 to be sent to the citadel with Spectre Saren. Subject 848 to be terminated.'

Images of her and Kaiden flicked onto the screen, both of them unconscious. They both looked ill, dead already, and it twisted her gut. When had they taken those?

Shepard closed them with a swish and continued hunting.

'Log 3253: Human colony Shanxi has been discovered. Deployment order 197. All forces to regroup at Charon Relay three days before invasion commences.'

Her fingers froze, reading the sentence again and again. Docking permission temporarily forgotten, Shepard began to dig for more information. Invasion routes. The date. Army scales. The amount of ships in the turian fleet. The _date. _After five minutes searching the back wall was covered in various screens, and Shepard began the meticulous job of downloading the information onto her omni-tool, sweat trickling down her neck.

20%, 50%. She waited patiently, unable to even read some of what she was stealing. No doubt it was in code. Solus would be able to read it. Or Liara. She just needed to get it to them.

"You've got a week."

She spun hearing the voice, turning to glare at Captain Fidus, who'd appeared behind the screen that hid the bed. Had he been there the entire time? Her eyes narrowed, and she flashed her gaze from the gun in his hand, to the information downloading on her arm. _80%._

"You're meant to be on the bridge." She said, voice calm. Though she didn't feel it.

"And you're meant to be in your cell." His mandibles fluttered then pulled into that unfamiliar smile. But even she could see the malice behind his features, and her gut churned, wishing Garrus had given her a pistol.

"A week until what?" She said instead, resorting to cheap distraction tactics.

It worked, and Fidus cackled at her ignorance, indicating to the screens. "A week until we invade Shanxi. Then your little colony will be gone."

"Is that so?" _Docking permission. Docking permission._ She spared a glance behind her and pressed a few buttons, desperate to get lucky. When Shepard turned back Fidus was almost upon her, and his eyes were hungry.

"You've got such a lovely mantle…" he purred, the alarm sounded then, alerting the entire crew that she was missing, and telling the others to make their way to Mordin's ship. Both of them ignored it.

"Don't come any closer." She warned, meaning it.

"Saren wants you dead, you know." As if to prove his point, he pressed the pistol against her head, other hand trailing the tips of her hair, twirling his finger around her knotty locks. Shepard clenched her teeth in response, not willing to play. "A waste if you ask me."

With a roar, her knee lashed out, crashing between his legs whilst her hands began to wrestle him for the gun. The pair struggled to the floor. She landed on her elbow and yelped as it crunched, scared now. They rolled and she managed to scramble on top, punching Fidus, attempting to crunch his mandibles. He growled and they rolled again. Pistol skittered across the floor. She twisted her torso in order to reach it. He pulled her back by her hair then was smothering his nose in it, breathing in deeply as she kicked out.

"Did you really think you could over power me? You're just soft flesh and weak bones." He whispered the words into her ear, and Shepard snarled as she felt a tongue skate across her lobe, furious.

"You'll regret this!" She said. But it was hard to believe your own threats when you were yelling them against the floor. He shifted his weight and pressed his knee against her thigh. Pain jabbed up her leg. Fidus was sharp and heavy against her back, and he slammed her face against the ground without warning. Shepard tasted blood, but at least the metal was cool against her cheek.

He pawed at her hair and laughed again. With one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other began to squeeze and pinch at her waist. When Shepard only grunted and struggled in response, Fidus began to lose patience, and grumbled for her to stop struggling as he pulled at her belt. She did no such thing, and continued to kick and thrash towards that pistol. Cursing Fidus for his strength, and Garrus for not trusting her with a gun in the first place.

Now the others would get caught waiting for her. The plan had failed and she was to blame. Guilt burned her chest and fizzled in the back of her throat. Shepard was too stubborn to cry, and continued to wiggle on the floor like an eel. Fidus let go of her hands to sink his nails into her hair, tugging her head back painfully far until she could once again see the flashing screens on the wall. Staring at the plans that would doom her planet as one of the culprits in question tried to tug her trousers down.

Refusing to admit defeat, she stretched out to reach the gun yet again. Her finger tips pushed the hilt further away, and Shepard gritted her teeth in frustration as Fidus sunk his own into her neck.

She gasped in pain and he bit her harder, then a moment later Fidus was flying off her back and taking some of her flesh with him. She twisted just in time to see him crash against the opposite wall, and Garrus was upon him in an instant, beating his Captain with a roar.

She scrambled to her feet, one hand clutching her neck, the other finally picking up the pistol. Now over his initial surprise, Fidus had begun to fight back, and the two wrestled across the floor as Shepard took aim.

"Garrus duck!"

He did, and two quick shots to the head ended the fight. Fidus dropped down, leg twitching as blue blood stained the floor. The remaining two watched each other, chests heaving as they tried to still their ragged breath, both glaring.

"What are you doing here?" Shepard spoke at last, but he declined to answer. Instead he pushed past her and began working the control pad, gaining docking permission without much hassle.

"Liara met me in the engine room. You didn't trust me." His voice was cold, and she watched his back tense.

"No." She murmured, unable to lie.

Garrus didn't look at her again, instead glancing to the pistol clenched in her hand. Shepard's grip tightened, thinking he'd take it off her. But with a small nod, he began to make for the door.

"Lets go. Saren's looking for you, and he isn't taking any prisoners."

* * *

**IMPORTANT**

(Hello! Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter. I realise I'm very slow with updating, but now I'm afraid War Heroes is going to have to go on a short hiatus. Please hear me out before you get mad though! I'm having to move across the country in a week for my job, and once there I'll be working 9am - 10pm with only one day off a week. Though I'll try to write in my spare time, I really don't think I'm going to manage to achieve much. No doubt I'll be too exhausted.

Luckily though, this isn't a permanent situation. And after four weeks (might be eight, I won't be told for a while yet) my schedule will be more or less back to normal.

I'm planning on posting another chapter in the next few days before I go. So at the very least Shepard and the gang will have escaped (or not. Who knows?!) Then there will be a short break before I get to resume.

Thank you for reading my story. And a massive thank you for being so patient when it takes me a while to update and for leaving lovely reviews. I am determined to finish this off, and hope to make it up to you all when my intense work schedule is finally over. If I get any more news to tell you I'll post it on my profile.)


	12. Chapter 12 Part One

Her chest was burning.

Garrus heard the tell-tale sound of pounding feet and dragged her away, tugging relentlessly while her legs turned to rubber and struggled to follow. There was nothing like a bit of imprisonment to make you rusty, and Shepard had never felt so exhausted in her life.

As they ran towards the bottom of the ship, she realised she wouldn't have been able to even find her way without Garrus's guidance. The huge vessel was a maze, and he took an elaborately long route in order to avoid the crew.

Warning lights flashed red above them, illuminating the cold metal walls with every beat of the alarm. It sent her blood rushing, and she was panting as they climbed down a ladder that was to be used only when the elevators were not in order.

She felt guilty for not trusting him. Garrus had risked his own life, and sabotaged his entire military career in order to save her life. She'd been watching turian behaviour for weeks, and realised how important social service was for them. They worked as a group, formed as one, and Garrus had just helped kill their leader. She'd been wrong about him.

He raised one fist as a signal to stop and they froze at the edge of the corner, pressed together and attempting to hold their ragged breathing. His hand found her own, and she squeezed his fingers tight as a group ran past without noticing them. Shepard couldn't help but notice that they were armed and wearing armour. Her stomach sunk, very aware that she was still in Liara's medical clothes.

"They're trying to get into the docking bay." Garrus whispered, turning in the opposite direction, keeping hold of her hand. "Solus must have done something to the control pad. Locked him and Liara inside. We can sneak through the emergency shaft while they're distracted at the main entrance."

"That sounds like another air vent." She muttered with a wrinkle of her nose. Garrus wouldn't want to kill any of his crew mates if possible, but – to her – shooting their way through the main door seemed like the easiest solution.

One corridor later and it turned out she was right about the air vent, and refused to stifle her groan as he knelt on the ground in front of the hatch. Garrus had to type in a password on his omni-tool before prying the entrance open, and urged her to climb down a ladder that no doubt led straight into a dark tunnel.

"You take point. I've got your six" He said, unholstering the assault rifle on his back with a grim look. It was only then she noticed that Garrus had put his armour on as well, and she felt just a little bit safer as she began to crawl through the tunnel. At least the escape hatch had definitely been built with turians in mind, and she found she could almost crouch with room to spare, making progress quickly while he struggled behind.

"Shepard, once we get out of here," Garrus grunted, closing the hatch behind him as he followed. "Whats your plan?"

She glanced back, surprised he was willing to talk to her, before continuing to move. "I need to go to the Shanxi colony; and warn my people."

"I thought we wanted to avoid starting a war?"

She frowned into the darkness, the ship's alarm turning quieter as they crawled deeper into the ship, until it was only a low thud in the distance. "The only way to do that would be to stop the turians. I don't see that happening.

They came to another ladder, and she shoved the pistol under her belt before making the steep climb.

"You could ask the council for help." Garrus said.

She didn't reply, frowning into the darkness and crawling forward. The tunnel slopped upwards before reaching another ladder. She pushed at the crate at the top with no luck, and it took a fair bit of instruction from Garrus before she managed to unlock the damn thing with her omni tool.

Climbing out Shepard blinked against the light, crawling into the large docking bay then turning to help Garrus behind her. Her eyes darted across numerous bizarre and wonderful ships, all parked in strict military rows. She lingered at a large tank that somewhat resembled the Normandy's Mako, gaze turning hungry before Garrus was tugging at her arm and leading her down the room. Crates were stacked on one side, and the pair lingered behind them as they hunted for Solus and Liara.

"Which ones his ship?" She whispered, very aware of the banging by the door. It was difficult to pick individual words above the sound of the alarm, but she could hear arguing, a few shouted orders. It wouldn't be long before they were through.

"That long one. Come on." He led her to what had to be the oddest ship Shepard had ever seen. Rather than the hard trimmed layers of plate the turian ships possessed, the salarian vessel was all sleek curves and round edges. It looked more suited to lurking under seas than traversing the galaxy, and her lip curled as the gateway slowly opened.

"I don't see a single gun." She muttered to herself.

"We won't need one. Salarian ships can stealth."

Her cheeks stained red and her lips thinned into a stubborn line. She'd taken Garrus for a green recruit, but if this escape attempt had proven anything it was that they were equals. It was rather humbling. And irritating.

The platform reached the ground and they walked up and into the ship. Inside matched the exterior's theme of curving walls. Instead of a maze of corridors that the turian warship possessed, the salarian ship opened up into a small lab. Vials and jars cluttered the tables. Metal tables, drilled into the ground, were covered with various papers and electronic tablets. A hologram of a human figure slowly rotated on one table, and Shepard gave it a sneer, almost certain it was her.

One day, she was going to ask Solus what all his experiments entailed.

"Ah. Garrus. Shepard. Not who I was hoping for." Solus muttered, appearing from the cockpit. He was talking even faster than usual, and blinked those large reptilian eyes like a humming birds wings. "This is problematic. Should have arrived sooner. Long before rest of team. Something wrong. Forgotten left shoe, possibly."

"What are you on about? Let's go before they get through." Garrus all but growled, already shoving past and into the cockpit.

Shepard held her breath, stomach churning so violently she was sure she was about to vomit. "Liaras not here." She said. The news made Garrus freeze by the doorway, and he turned back to stare at her, eyes wide.

"We've got to go back." He said, popping a heat sink into his gun.

(A small update to let you all know I'm still alive. I apologise for making you all wait so long, but since the last chapter I've moved home three times and gotten a new job [that actually revolves around creative writing!] So it can sometimes be difficult to face the idea of staring at a word document when you've been doing that all day at work, but I am determined to finish the story and promise I'm still working on this!)


	13. Chapter 12 Part Two

Breaking the rules was often necessary for the good of science, but as Liara stood outside the cargo bay, watching a team prepare a bomb to blast open the doors, she couldn't help but miss the days when she studied prothethian ruins. Sure, there was always the risk of getting suspended in a force field, but there was absolutely zero chance of running into a living prothetian who got you into scores of trouble.

Humans on the other hand.

"Oh Goddess." She whispered to herself, ducking behind the wall and trying to think of a plan. She'd been too slow to get here, and was now trapped with the crew in between her friends, and their escape. She was certain there must be other means into the cargo bay, but Liara had absolutely no idea where they would be – why couldn't they have covered that during all the planning? – Turian ships were nothing like Asari cruisers, and she was quickly running out of time.

No choice about it then.

She peered back around the corner. The team were nearly ready to bomb their own ship, with Saren at the back of the group barking at them to hurry up. The spectre's presence did little to soothe her nerves, especially seeing him so furious. Spittle flew from the turian's mouth as he screamed orders, one hand curled into a tight fights, the other gripping onto a mean looking pistol.

She'd beaten him once though. Surely she could do it a second time?

Liara steeled her nerves and continued to watch as the turians jumped back for cover. In contrast, Saren stood perfectly still while his cronies ducked behind a pile of discarded storage boxes, eyes narrowing into determined slits as the doors were blown open with a large bang.

She waited until the smoke had settled, counted to three while the crew got into formation behind Saren, guns at the ready. Once they were grouped together Liara finally stepped out and held up her arm; one asari against six turians. Her eyes glowed blue, power tingled the tips of her fingers, and – ignoring the potential consequences – she pushed the energy out of her palm like a blast, and fired a singularity at the group.

The element of surprise was a huge help, and no one expected the dark energy sphere to appear amongst them. A few yelped as they were all pulled forward, feet leaving the air, a few even dropped their guns, and Liara took the opportunity to start running. She bolted towards the doors, having to get into touching distance of the turians in order to rush past them and into the cargo bay. Her feet slid precariously on the floor when she got just that little too close to her own singularity, and Liara felt her heart thudding with fear as she pulled the gutsy move and rushed past them all.

Someone shouted for her to stop, she moved faster. But her luck was doomed to run out, and Saren still had a firm grip of his gun. He fired three quick shots at her feet, struggling as the gravitational pull turned him sideways.

"Traitor!" He snarled, twisting his spine to shoot at her again. Liara barely glanced behind her, waving her arm back to send out a shockwave. The wall of biotic energy thudded against the group, destroying her singularity but forcing them all to the ground with another cry.

Her legs were burning, but she ran quicker, she could see the ship now, its engines already running.

"Wait! Wait for me!" Liara cried desperately, panting with exertion. The room was huge and the ship was parked as close to the blast doors as possible. She spotted Garrus and Shepard run onto the walkway. Shepard pointed behind her, shouting something. "What?!" She asked.

Liara cried out as a bullet wizzed into the back of her shoulder and out at the front. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground with a thud. Saren was clearly using shredder ammo, as the bullet had pierced through her shield and sheared into multiple parts, leaving her with a large, bloody gash instead of one little hole. It hurt and she whimpered, rolling over onto her back to stare at the ceiling, purple blood soaking her clothes.

Bullets wizzed up above. Shepard and Garrus had opened fire, and it turned into a race to see who could reach Liara first without getting shot. She prayed to the Goddess that her friends would win. But her prayers went unanswered, and after a few moments of desperate fighting Saren's face loomed above her, mandibles spread into a toothy grin.

"Say goodbye, Dr T'Soni." He cooed, pistol pointing at her head.

Saren let fire, and Liara's whole world turned dark.

* * *

"Okay, round 3." Joker cracked his fingers and winced at how bad an idea that was. Pain bit at his knuckles instantly, but he ignored it seem as Scrapper – as he'd taken to calling her - was sat in the co-pilot seat.

She blinked at him behind her purple helmet. The alien had been extremely helpful since falling through their ceiling. She'd fixed the air recycling system, the radar, most of their guns, and – most importantly he thought – their engine. Scrapper seemed more than happy to lend a hand, just as long as none of them came in touching distance, and that everyone pretended not to notice if some less important parts went 'missing.'

Joker wasn't too keen that she was clearly taking parts of the ship for herself, but it was hard to say 'stop doing that, please' when she had absolutely no idea what they were saying. Scrapper could understand the ship well enough, and he'd caught her talking to the engine in those rolling purrs more than once, but she did not want to even attempt conversation with them. Even now, while they tried to get the ship flying, she declined to say anything, instead sitting quietly and monitoring the engine's temperature on her screen.

"Hows it going?" Ashley stepped onto the bridge, giving Scrapper a hard glare and as much space as possible. She'd learnt the hard way not to get too close. Ashley had tried to prod her gun into the alien's side – just to hurry her up, she'd insisted later. In a matter of seconds Scrapper had typed in some buttons on the tool that covered her arm, Ashley gun had imploded within, becoming a smoking useless piece of junk, and a rounded robot had morphed by Scrapper's feet, shocking the soilder's feet and forcing her backwards with a cry.

They'd all left the alien alone after that.

"On a scale of one to ten? I'd say we're at a steady two." Joker admitted, leaning back in his chair and running a hand over his face.

"I thought Bucket-head had fixed everything." She grumbled. 'Bucket-head' was the alien's second nickname, and had been adopted by those who liked her least – namely, Ashley, Jack, and Kevin. Joker, James, and Dr Chawkas all preferred Scrapper. Though it didn't entirely matter, the alien ignored them either way.

"She has. I don't understand why we're not moving." He whined, "come on, baby, lets get going." He pressed a few buttons, and the engines grumbled beneath their feet for a few moments before dying into a dooming silence once more.

"Doesn't sound like shes' fixed it." Ashley said, sounding exasperated.

"She has!" Joker almost snapped, defensive whenever the Normandy was involved.

"Are you sure you haven't left the hand break on or something?"

"Ships don't have hand breaks." He guffawed, feathers thoroughly ruffled and intelligence successfully insulted.

"The wrong button then?"

"You think I don't know which buttons to press?!"

"That's not what I – "

"Oh by all means, Ash, show me what to do, CLEARLY, I have no idea! It's not like I'm the best – "

"I only meant –"

"The BEST pilot in the galaxy!" He spoke over her. "I can't even walk straight, let alone fly a –"

A timid cough silenced him, and Joker was so surprised by the interruption that he swivelled towards Scrapper with wide eyes. She pointed at a lever by his thigh, no words needed.

Immediately Joker's face burned red.

"Whats that?" Ashley asked, peering behind him.

"Nothing." He flicked the little lever as discreetly as possible and pressed the same button sequence again. This time the Normandy roared to life without any trouble. Lights flashed on across the control panel and continued down the corridor ceiling. The entire ship came to life, and his eyes welled with tears, stroking his chair arms fondly. "Good to have you back, ol' girl." He muttered under his breath, heart swelling, both for his ship and the alien who'd saved it.

"So you had left the hand break on." Ashley broke him out of his trance, smirking.

"There is no hand break! Its just the um… safety lock." He admitted, ignoring her laughing as the Normandy slowly rose up into the air under his expert instruction.

Scrapper looked excited – or he guessed she did, it was hard with the mask – cooing a happy sounding sentence and pointing at the engine chart, clearly proud of her handiwork.

Ashley grinned, clapping Joker on his shoulder. "Ready to save the Commander?"

"Definitely." He agreed, and with that they were off, shooting into space and out of the planet's atmosphere. Ready for a fight.


End file.
